Give Me Up For Gone
by cellorocksmyworld
Summary: AU Voldemort was destroyed at the end of the First War, but nobody remembers how. The only clue is a hazy memory Sirius has of a small boy Greyback attacked on the night in 1985 when the war ended. Eight years later, a young man named Remus Lupin begins to teach at Hogwarts. As he challenges Wizarding Britain's view on Dark Creatures, memories return, and lives are changed forever.
1. Prologue

_The boy's eyes were far older than the rest of him. Strange, that this was what Sirius noticed as he struggled to remain conscious. He felt like he should know this boy, this small, wild-looking creature crouching wearily above him. He felt like he owed this boy everything. And he certainly felt like he should warn him about the enraged werewolf bearing down on his exposed back. But Sirius could only watch, eyes wide in helpless horror, as Greyback seized the already weakened child in clawed hands, throwing him like a ragdoll across the forest clearing where his skull impacted sharply with a large boulder. The small form lay still, lifeless, and even as Sirius willed himself to do something – ANYTHING – Greyback grabbed the boy by the hair, and was gone with a crack. The dark forest blurred behind tears and confusion as Sirius slowly lost his fight with the black…_

Sirius woke in a warm bed, his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. He stared at the ceiling as he once again contemplated his only memory of the night Lord Voldemort was destroyed. Eight years on, and still none of them – not James, not Lily, not Harry – had any idea what happened on that fateful night in 1985, when Voldemort tried to murder the Potters. But somehow, the most powerful and evil wizard in the world had been killed, and the only clue they had was a memory that didn't even make sense. Who was that boy? What was he doing there, in the woods behind the Potters' house? Had HE killed Voldemort? Because the madman was definitely dead. It had been proven. But HOW?

Sirius sighed. Eight years of racking their brains and experimenting with reverse memory charms had yielded no answers, and they had finally decided to stop questioning this incredible gift of life in a world of peace. Somehow, miraculously, they had all survived the darkest period in Wizarding Britain's history. He was married, with two beautiful children and a third on the way. Harry – once in mortal danger from Voldemort's single-minded quest to prevent a bogus prophecy – was about to start his third year at Hogwarts, healthy and happy (apart from when his little sister, Hannah, was bugging him). Friends and family were everywhere to be found, and Grimmauld Place was a very different house than the one he grew up in, with various Potters, Weasleys, Tonks's, Longbottoms, and other hangers-on traipsing in and out for visits and holidays. Snape and his family had even been known to grace Sirius's doorstep, and the occasions were becoming surprisingly enjoyable as time passed.

All in all, life was good, and the former members of the Order of the Phoenix were moving past the horrible memories of war. But on mornings like this, when Sirius awoke with sweat on his face and a cry on his lips, he always spent several moments thinking about that nameless boy, wishing he could have done something to help him, and thanking him with every ounce of his soul. For though he could not remember a thing apart from his recurring dream, some part of Sirius knew without question that all of them owed their freedom, if not their lives, to the child Greyback killed all those years ago.


	2. Chapter 1

There were no empty compartments by the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione got on the Hogwarts Express. The best they could do was the compartment at the very end of the train, where a disheveled young man was sleeping, a frayed Muggle baseball cap covering his face. They looked at him curiously as they shuffled in, stowing their trunks under the seats. He didn't move, still fast asleep as they seated themselves as far away from him as possible.

"Who d'you suppose _he_ is?" Ron whispered, pulling his pet rat – a fat brown creature named Max – out of his pocket and setting it on his shoulder. "He doesn't look like a student."

And indeed he didn't. The young man was dressed in worn Muggle clothing, faded jeans and a threadbare flannel shirt revealing a lanky, rather skinny form. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, large feet propped up on the bench opposite, his head leaning against the window. Though they couldn't see his face, a mop of sandy brown hair peeked out from underneath his cap, and they could see a healthy amount of blond stubble along his jawline. Though she would never admit it to Ron and Harry, Hermione found herself subtly ogling him, wishing the cap wasn't covering quite so much of his face. Ginny and Hannah tripped in to join them, and by the way their eyes lit up as they saw their mysterious traveling companion, Hermione knew she wasn't the only one who found the young man intriguing.

The trip passed in relative peace. The man must have been dead tired, because he slept straight through four rounds of Exploding Snap, the arrival of Neville, and a blazing row between Ron and Ginny when she found Max eating her Honeydukes chocolate. The world outside the train window got darker and darker as they neared Hogwarts. The children were just beginning to think about putting on their school robes when the lights on the train suddenly flickered and went out. The train screeched in protest as it came to an abrupt halt, and they all cried out as they were flung from their seats.

"Hannah, _get off_ me!"

"Ow, don't sit here, _I'm_ here!"

"Max! Where's Max! Did you squash him Ginny?"

"I _wish_ –"

"Quiet!"

The pitch-black compartment was silenced immediately by the authoritative tone. A crackle, a spark, and suddenly they could see by the light of a blue flame that the tired young man seemed to be holding directly in his palm. He looked around in concern.

"Is everyone alright?" They nodded, brushing themselves off and slowly getting to their feet. Before anyone could say another word, though, a horrendous screech of rending metal came from the back door of the train, as though it was being forcefully pulled from its hinges. The young man's eyes snapped up, an expression of deadly focus on his face as he strode to the door of the compartment, just as two shadowy figures blocked it. The children gasped in fear as the blue flame illuminated the sunken faces of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, the only Death Eaters that remained at large in the world. The pure malice on their faces made something in Harry quake, but the sandy-haired man stood his ground, his voice clear and confident, no wand in sight.

"Good evening. Is there something I can help you with?" The calm words belied the clear tone of warning in his voice. Dolohov sneered and raised his wand.

"Yeah, you can get out of our way. We want the Potter boy, and we don't much care what happens to the rest of you." The tips of both of their wands were now angled directly at the young man's throat. Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe as he fumbled for his wand with sweating hands, not sure what he was planning to do with it. He felt his sister's hand wrap around his upper arm in a trembling grip. This was her first train ride to Hogwarts, and Harry's jaw tightened in determination to protect her.

Against all reason, the young man began to softly chuckle. He released his ball of blue flame, letting it float away from him, and continued to laugh as the Death Eaters' faces went from shocked, to confused, to livid. Bellatrix opened her mouth, a spell on the tip of her tongue, and suddenly the young man exploded into action. He grabbed both wands and jerked them upwards, scorching the ceiling with the Death Eaters' spells. Wrenching the wands away, he expertly hooked his leg around Dolohov's, bringing the larger man to the ground heavily. Grabbing a shocked Bellatrix by the hair, he twisted her around and wrapped his arm tightly around her throat in what appeared to be a Muggle wrestling move, rendering her unconscious in seconds. He let her fall to the ground unceremoniously, and strode over to Dolohov, who was trying desperately to scramble back towards the door they had so recently ripped from its hinges. The young man also took Dolohov by the hair but, foregoing the wrestling move, he simply slammed the older man's head against the solid wall. It was brutally efficient, and within a minute of the Death Eaters boarding the train, they were unconscious and bleeding on the floor.

There was a shocked silence. The sandy-haired man looked down at the crumpled, black-clad figures, as if to make sure they were going to stay down. Then Ron let out a strangled laugh.

"That was bloody _brilliant_," he said shakily, sweeping a shaking hand across his face. "Can you teach us how to do that?"

The young man turned to them and grinned, and the three girls immediately fell in love a little bit. He was not classically handsome – rather plain in fact – but his smile lit up his face, and his hazel eyes twinkled from behind his messy, sandy brown fringe. His skin was tanned golden, as though he spent a lot of time working outside, and three mysterious scars ran in parallel from near his left eye, across his stubbled cheekbone and down his neck, where they disappeared under the flannel shirt. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties – tall, but not overly so, with a medium build that spoke of hidden strength. Hermione was appalled to find herself blatantly checking him out, and barely listened when he replied to Ron, voice lilting with a hint of a foreign accent.

"Well, I certainly hope I can, cause that's what I'm here for. I'm Remus Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."


	3. Chapter 2

It didn't take long for the Hogwarts Express to get back underway. Aurors arrived within minutes, including Harry's father and godfather. As soon as the situation was under control, and the Death Eaters were bundled off in chains, James hurried to his children and pulled them into a fierce hug.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gripping them both tightly by the shoulders.

"We're fine," Harry said, forgetting his usual embarrassment at his dad's overprotective streak. "But they wanted _me_. Why?"

James's lips tightened in anger. "They seem to think you hold the key to bringing Voldemort back to life. Complete dragon dung, but they've never been known for their sanity." He smiled reassuringly at his son. "They're going away to Azkaban for the rest of their lives. Nothing like this will ever happen again, I promise."

Harry smiled back, and noticed that, behind his father, their new DADA professor was greeting Sirius and Frank Longbottom with friendly handshakes.

"Do you know that guy, Dad?"

James glanced around. "Remus Lupin," he said, turning back. "He's helped out the Aurors in a few tricky situations, mostly in Eastern Europe, and he's brought in a lot of the Death Eaters that were still on the loose. The kid has a bad habit of antagonizing dragons too, if I understand Charlie Weasley correctly. I _had _heard that Albus hired him for the DADA position. Sounds like you guys are gonna have an exciting time of it."

He winked at them, pulled them into one last tight hug, shook Lupin's hand firmly, and bid farewell with the rest of the Aurors, who repaired the ruined door on their way out. Within minutes, the train was running smoothly again, as if nothing had happened. Lupin nodded pleasantly at them, then ambled up the length of the train, either to check on the other students or to find the food cart, as he had slept through its initial visit. He left a rather quiet group of children behind, as they reflected on what they had just witnessed. They were going to learn Defense from someone who could do _that_? Gilderoy Lockhart was positively laughable in comparison.

"I have a feeling DADA is gonna be _incredible_ this year," Harry finally said with a grin.

Harry and the others were quite popular in the Great Hall during the welcoming feast, as news of what had happened on the train spread through the student body like wildfire. The story grew more and more embellished with every retelling, and before they had even set eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, most of the students had already decided that he must be the coolest wizard alive. Several occupants of the Slytherin table looked immensely put out by the whole affair, but they were in the minority.

The Hogwarts staff all entered the Great Hall together, and children were craning their necks from every corner to catch a glimpse of this man who could take down two rogue Death Eaters with his bare hands. The young man was in animated conversation with Hagrid, gesticulating excitedly as they made their way to the table at the front of the hall, and seemed perfectly oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all quarters. He had thrown a worn black robe over his Muggle clothing – obviously unused to formal wizarding attire – and though he had removed his cap, his mop of sandy hair was in dire need of both a trim and a comb. But despite his haphazard appearance, by the time he and Hagrid reached their seats – still deeply engaged in conversation – at least half of the girls (and a few of the boys) in the student body were head over heels in love.

The first years arrived, looking sodden and cold after their trip across the lake. Harry could see his sister among them – easily distinguishable by her flaming red hair – looking nervous as she eyed the tattered Sorting Hat at the front of the hall. Harry caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. As he and his parents had told her before, it didn't _matter_ what House she was sorted into – they were all strong in their own ways. Though Harry somehow doubted that his baby sister – who didn't even step on ants if she could help it – would be sorted into Slytherin…

The hat burst into song, the first years were sorted, and Harry grinned proudly as Hannah jumped off the stool and made her way to the Ravenclaw table, smiling broadly as she joined some girls she was already friends with. Finally, when all the first years were in their rightful places, Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"Welcome," he said, eyes twinkling at them all. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I know that we," he gestured to his fellow members of staff, "are all very excited to see you, and we hope you are looking forward to another year of learning. First years should know that the Forbidden Forest is – as the name suggests – forbidden, and no one should swim in the Great Lake unless they want a rather nasty surprise. Last, but certainly not least, I want you all to join me in welcoming a new member of our staff. He has traveled all the way from Bulgaria to be with us today, and I know that he has a lot to teach you all. Professor Remus Lupin!"

The hall erupted in applause, a few hearty cheers thrown in by those who had been in the last compartment. Professor Lupin, looking quite surprised at the warm reaction, got to his feet awkwardly and nodded at them all in thanks, smiling broadly. Hagrid looked up at him and said something, and the young man threw his head back and laughed, eyes twinkling as he sat down again and the hall gradually quieted down. Albus was still standing.

"I leave you with just a few magic words: nitwit, faffer, hissyfit, and pop!"

And suddenly the tables were overflowing with food, the sound of happy children filled the air, and another year at Hogwarts began. At the Gryffindor table, Ron and Harry tucked in with enthusiasm. Hermione filled her plate more slowly, forehead creased in thought.

"Professor Lupin is from Bulgaria?" she asked nobody in particular. Ron shrugged, his mouth full of steak and kidney pie.

"Guess so," he said thickly before swallowing. "I think I actually remember Charlie talking about some barmy bloke who helped them wrangle a few dragons in Bulgaria. Said he was the craziest blighter he's ever known, and coming from Charlie, that's saying a lot."

Ron speared a sausage with his fork, taking a huge bite before continuing enthusiastically, obviously enjoying the rare occasion when he knew more about something than Hermione. "_Apparently_, according to Charlie, he actually got on a Hungarian Horntail's _back_ and managed to steer it away from a village it was about to destroy!"

Both Harry and Hermione looked at him dubiously. Ron held his hands up innocently, half-eaten sausage waving like a flag from his fork.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm just telling you what Charlie said!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his terrible table manners and said, slightly haughtily, "Well _I'm _interested to hear his thoughts about what's going on in Eastern Europe. That's where a lot of Voldemort's followers went after the war, and the whole region has been in turmoil ever since."

Ron and Harry suppressed sighs as they sensed an oncoming speech, complete with long words and impassioned opinions.

"It didn't help that a lot of Dark Creatures emigrated there after the war as well, to escape persecution here," she said. Surprising himself, Harry was actually intrigued.

"Persecution?" he asked. She nodded. "Yes, the Ministry enacted a lot of very strict laws during and after the war, in order to monitor and control Dark Creatures like vampires, werewolves, warlocks, and veelas."

"Makes sense," Ron interrupted, looking defensive as she rounded on him. "Dark Creatures killed a lot of people during the war, of course the Ministry wanted to control them!"

Hermione's nostrils flared in anger. "And what about those who were innocent? Those who only wanted to live in peace? And they didn't just have the Ministry to contend with, there were all sorts of anti-Dark Creature organizations actively trying to kill them or push them out of Europe!"

Harry, sparing a moment to wonder how they had gotten on this topic, asked, "Why are you talking about this in the past tense? What's happening there now?"

Hermione looked at him in exasperation. "Harry, _you're _the one whose father is an Auror! He has to have done loads of stuff in Eastern Europe, how do you not know what's going on?"

"He doesn't talk to me about work!" Harry said defensively. Hermione gave a long-suffering sigh, and stabbed one of her potatoes with her fork.

"I've read three books about this, but since you both have rather limited attention spans, I'll give you the condensed version. Five years ago, an anti-Dark Creature organization called Humans Against Werewolf Equality managed to get their hands on some sort of bomb, and they sent it by Portkey to a small village in Bulgaria, where a lot of Dark Creature refugees were living. Almost a thousand people died, many of them not even Dark Creatures themselves. When the public found out about it, there was an uproar. You two _must_ have seen something in the papers when you were younger."

Harry looked over at Ron, who shrugged. "I wasn't reading the paper when I was eight, Hermione," he said. "I was learning Quidditch."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Typical. Well, there was an enormous backlash. Almost ten times as many people died in that village than in the entire war. There were enough liberal-minded people in the Ministry to push through some reforms of the laws, and the Aurors tried to find and dismantle H.A.W.E. But the bombing of that village destabilized the entire region, and made Dark Creatures all over the world extremely angry. Eastern Europe has practically been a war zone ever since. I wonder what Professor Lupin has been doing there…"

Ron looked up at the staff table where Lupin was now talking with Snape, leaning forward along the table and absentmindedly twirling his steak knife through his fingers like a baton.

"Kicking ass and taking names, most likely," the red-haired boy said, a hint of jealousy in his voice as he turned back to his steak and kidney pie. "Hermione, this has been a fascinating history lesson, but classes don't start until tomorrow. Could we wait until then before we try and solve all the world's problems?"


	4. Chapter 3

Nymphadora Tonks, 17-year old Metamorphmagus extraordinaire, was late to class. She was _always_ late to class, but this time she had actually wanted to be on time. She muttered curses under her breath as she tripped on the hem of her new robes and almost fell on her face in the hallway near the DADA classroom. It was her first class with the new professor, and she had wanted to make a good impression – not because he was _"so cute" _or _"mysteriously handsome"_ or any of her friend Penny's other stupid, girly reasons, but because she needed Professor Remus Lupin to give her a good letter of recommendation to the Ministry Auror Training Program. But _of course_ Fred and George had decided that today was a good day to turn the corridor outside the first floor girl's toilet into a _swamp_. So here she was – late, slightly damp, and smelling strongly of mud. She skidded to a stop outside the classroom, taking a moment to wipe uselessly at the swamp stains on her robes (she didn't dare try a cleaning charm, it would only make it worse) before pushing the door open. And because her rebellious body always had to make an entrance, she tripped on her robes _again_ as she walked in, and this time she could tell she was going to be painfully reunited with the floor.

Surprisingly, gravity didn't manage to bring her all the way down. Strong arms caught her before she fell very far at all, and she looked up into surprised hazel eyes.

_Oh shit. Way to make the worst possible first impression, Tonksy. Just attack the guy, why don't you? Better kiss that letter of recommendation goodbye..._

She heard giggles and snorts of laughter echo throughout the room as a bemused Professor Remus Lupin returned Tonks to her feet and took a step back. A small, stupid part of Tonks's brain registered that he had felt very strong and warm under the tatty long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. He stared at her, and she realized belatedly that she had been gawking at him for several seconds.

"Sorry, sir," she managed to choke out, unable to morph fast enough to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. "There was an – an _incident_ on the first floor. The Weasley twins made a swamp and I got stuck and, well, here I am."

She didn't know whether to be relieved or even more embarrassed when the man's mouth began to quirk upward in an amused grin.

"Nymphadora Tonks, I assume?" She nodded, pulling a face.

"Just Tonks, sir. My mother named me Nymphadora in payback for giving her stretch marks."

Professor Lupin's laugh was warm and hearty, and his eyes twinkled in mirth as he grinned at her.

"Fair enough, Miss Tonks. May I?" He gestured to her robes, and she nodded, though unsure what his intentions were. He waved his hand almost lazily at her sodden robes, and within seconds they were not only clean, but had been shortened slightly so she wouldn't trip as much. She looked back up at him and blurted out in shock, "You're not using a wand!"

He chuckled. "No, I'm not. But we can talk about that later," he said, gesturing her to a seat as he turned to face the class that had been so entertainingly interrupted by her unorthodox entrance. He was not wearing the traditional black teacher's robe, clad instead in faded khaki pants and a long-sleeved blue shirt with the top two buttons undone. A cord around his neck held a smooth, rounded white stone that rested right on his collarbone against tanned skin. Tonks grudgingly admitted to herself that he looked fairly attractive as he leaned back against the desk at the front of the classroom.

"You haven't missed much, Miss Tonks, I was just telling everyone what I plan to teach you all this year. I've taken a look at what your previous teachers have covered, and it seems as though you've learned a lot of theory, and you've written a lot of essays, but you have received very little training in practical combat. Is that correct?"

There were nods and quiet murmurs of assent all around. Tonks spared a moment to note that his accent was decidedly strange. Mostly British, but with bits of Greek and something else mixed in. She was no expert on accents, but he didn't sound Bulgarian to her at all.

He continued. "Right. Well, I think it's high time you all learned how to defend yourselves, and others. Despite what a lot of people want you to believe, the world is still a very dangerous place, and it's _my_ job to make sure that _you_ have the skills to keep yourselves and those you love safe. We'll start with physical self-defense, without wands. Then we'll focus on dueling, and other forms of magical attack and defense. Then we'll talk about strategy, and how to organize an offensive or defensive operation."

Daphne Podmore – one of Tonks's least favorite people, sitting in the front row with an indecently low cut shirt that was obviously designed to catch the new professor's eye – let out a small giggle at the intensity of his words. He glanced her way, and Tonks noticed with a small smile that his only reaction to her prominent cleavage was a slightly raised eyebrow.

"I know it seems like a lot, especially since most of you aren't planning to enter the more dangerous career paths, but believe me when I say that violence and danger do not stick to set places or paths, and there may well come a time when you need to rise to the occasion."

Tonks felt her spine straighten at his ominous, and yet strangely inspirational words. She was more than ready to learn whatever he had to teach her. Maybe a letter of recommendation for the Auror Program was still within reach…

"We'll spend the first semester on combat, and after the Christmas break we'll learn all about Dark Creatures – what they are, how to identify them, and how to interact with them. It's a lot to throw at you in just one year, but that's all the time I have with you guys, so we're going to make it count. Sound good?"

He got a more enthusiastic response this time, the teenagers actually looking excited at the prospect of learning such practical skills from someone who seemed to know what he was doing. Professor Lupin clapped his hands together in excitement.

"Great! Let's get started!" He stood, but paused when he saw that Terry Nott had raised his hand tentatively.

"Yes, Mr. Nott?"

"Please, sir, I was just wondering – is it true that you knocked out Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov on the Hogwarts Express? And are you really from Bulgaria? You don't sound like it…"

Professor Lupin smiled slightly. "I haven't really told you anything about myself, have I? Sorry about that, I got carried away." He settled back down on the edge of the desk, hands clasped in front of him.

"Yes, I knocked out the two Death Eaters on the Hogwarts Express. I used techniques of physical combat that you will all learn in the coming months. And yes, I am from Bulgaria. I was raised by a British family near the Greek border, which is why my accent is a little… strange. But Bulgaria has been my home for as long as I can remember. For the past five years I have worked with Aurors from Britain and from other parts of Europe to track down Death Eaters and other criminals, and bring them to justice. I have also been widely involved with efforts to liase with various communities of Dark Creatures throughout Eastern Europe. Albus Dumbledore asked me to teach here because he knows the importance of teaching young people how – and _when_ – to use defensive magic. If there is one thing I want you to take away from this class, it is this: _not everything you have been taught to be afraid of deserves that fear_. The world is so much more than black and white, good and evil. I will teach you how to use your wand to defend yourself and others, but I'll also teach you how to use your wand to heal, and I will teach you when to put it down and offer a hand in friendship. _That_ is how the world will become a better place. Not through force, but through understanding. And _all of you_ have the power to make it so."

He paused, and smiled at the stunned expressions on their faces. Tonks felt her heart swelling at his impassioned words. This shabbily dressed young man had, in five minutes, inspired her more than any of her previous teachers put together.

"I'll get off my soapbox, now," he said, chuckling. "Leave everything here, even your wands, and let's go outside. Time for your first combat class."


	5. Chapter 4

Hogwarts was obsessed with Remus Lupin. He was a whirlwind of energy, and was sweeping everyone up into his orbit. His classes were strenuous, both physically and mentally demanding. For the first few weeks of the term, almost every DADA class was outside, taking advantage of the fleeting good weather to learn as much about physical combat and defense as they could. On the rare occasion that it was raining, the students learned the basics of magical defense and dueling inside.

Most of the students were loving every second of it. _Finally_, a DADA professor was teaching them something useful! For Ron, Harry, and Hermione, the only cloud on the horizon was the fact that they had Defense classes with the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy had been unpleasant enough in first year, but since his Death Eater father had been captured and sent to Azkaban the year before, he had been nearly insufferable.

It was the third week of classes, and the third years were paired off on the lawn, practicing a simple method of subduing a physical attack. Professor Lupin had paired Harry up with Draco, showing what Harry thought was a distinct lack of judgment, seeing as how the two boys openly antagonized each other on a daily basis. An hour had already passed, and Harry's patience with Draco's snide remarks was growing quite thin.

"Come on, Potter," the blond-haired boy sneered as Harry tried yet again to tackle him. Malfoy was proving to be quite adept at this whole physical defense thing. "You're not even trying. This is like fighting a dumb chimpanzee."

Harry's patience finally snapped. This time, he managed to get a good hold on Malfoy's torso and tried to bring him to the ground. The two boys struggled, equal height and weight offering no advantage to either of them. Then Draco's foot slipped, and Harry grabbed the back of his shirt, nearly pulling it clean off as he forced the thrashing blond boy face down into the grass. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, he could vaguely hear shouts from his classmates and Professor Lupin.

Any rush of victory he might have felt vanished in an instant as he set eyes on Malfoy's exposed back. Raised white lines ran across the skin in close formation, criss-crossing in some places. His heart leapt to his throat as an image of the nasty scar that crossed his father's chest flashed into his mind. James Potter had received that scar in the war. Why did Draco Malfoy have so many more?

He had no time to contemplate it further. Professor Lupin heaved him roughly off of Draco, who scrambled to his feet and yanked his shirt down, face beet red and furious. Harry looked up at Lupin, expecting to see a similar fury, but was surprised to see the man looking at Malfoy in resigned understanding. The blond boy avoided eye contact, and Harry knew that Lupin had seen the scars too. A long, tense moment passed, and Harry could see his classmates watching them from a distance.

When Professor Lupin finally spoke, his voice was calm, but deadly serious. "I know you two think that you're enemies, but you are going to find that there are much more important things to care about – and much more important battles to fight – than whatever is going on _here_." He gestured between Harry and Draco, his hazel eyes boring into them in turn. "The world is already messed up enough, without you two bringing more hatred into it. _Get it together_, boys. Detention, both of you. Come to my office tomorrow night after dinner."

He turned away, leaving behind a mortified Harry and a still furious Draco. The bell rang to end class, and Harry trudged, shame-faced, to meet Ron and Hermione. Ron clearly wanted to congratulate Harry on shoving Malfoy's face into the ground, but managed to restrain himself until they were out of Lupin's earshot. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be of a similar mind to their professor.

"He's right, you know," she said, bushy hair swinging as they walked. "You two are being ridiculous. The war's over, we should be working to improve relations with people like Draco."

"Yeah, well, tell him to stop calling me a dumb chimpanzee then," Harry muttered, but his words lacked real anger. Ron and Hermione hadn't seen the marks on Malfoy's back, and part of him really wanted to tell them, to get their opinions on what it might mean. But then he remembered the look on Malfoy's face after Harry had seen them – angry, defensive… and scared.

"You alright, mate?"

Ron's voice broke Harry from his thoughts. He looked over at his red-haired friend. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. Detention tomorrow, that's all."

They didn't need to know about the scars. He may not like Malfoy very much, but he never wanted to see that look on the boy's face ever again.

* * *

Tonks, Clarence Clearwater, and Terry Nott crept down the dark hallway toward the Room of Requirement. It was well after curfew, and they barely dared to breath as they kept their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris.

The three seventh years were quite serious about getting into the Auror Training Program, and they had decided to use the Room of Requirement to get some more practice with the physical and magical combat skills they were learning from Professor Lupin. Finally they reached the room, and Tonks walked three times along the wall. _We need a place to practice Defense. _

As expected, a door appeared and the three teenagers entered what appeared to be a gymnasium with padded floors and walls, various punching bags hanging from the ceiling. But they were not, to their great surprise, alone.

Remus Lupin was at one of the punching bags, hands wrapped in white tape, giving the poor bag a beating it would never forget. He was wearing loose-fitting black pants and a white undershirt that now clung to his sweaty skin. Tonks's mouth went slightly dry as she saw well-defined muscles shifting under the thin fabric.

They hadn't made a sound, but something must have alerted Lupin to their presence, for he swung around, lithe body lowering into an instinctively defensive pose. When he saw the three teenagers he straightened up, looking taken aback.

"I'm sorry, Professor Lupin," Tonks began, no idea what she was planning to say to this distractingly attractive man standing in front of her, sweat dripping from his brow and down his tanned throat. She opened her mouth again, but no words came out.

"What are you three doing here?" he asked, saving her from an awkward silence.

Terry (who had known he was gay since he was four) and Clarence (who was also quite decidedly attracted to men) were still unable to form words in the face of such a specimen, so it fell to Tonks to respond.

"We… we were looking for a place to practice the things you've been showing us," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "I know it's after curfew, but we all want to get into the Auror Training Program, and they only take the best."

She raised her chin defiantly, as though daring him to order them back to their dormitories. Ever since she had fallen through the doorway into his arms in the first class, the two of them had had a rather confusing chemistry. His hazel eyes twinkled teasingly at her whenever she tripped over her own feet in class, and she glared back in equal parts anger and amusement. Now he raised an eyebrow at her, and a slow smile spread across his face, replacing the slight confusion that had been there before.

"Is that so?" he asked, and she nodded. He looked to Terry and Clarence, who had recovered slightly, and they nodded as well. His smile broadened into a grin.

"Okay then," he said. "I'll keep my mouth shut."

The three teenagers let out sighs of relief, smiling broadly at their teacher.

"Thank you, Professor Lupin," Tonks said, echoed by her friends. He continued to smile, putting his hands in his pockets as he surveyed them.

"No worries. Do you want any help? Maybe we can make this an official thing, so you don't have to sneak around all the time. I'm here most nights anyway."

Tonks's eyes widened at the generous offer. Extra time with Professor Lupin? It was too good to be true.

"Seriously?" she asked, and he chuckled. "Yeah, seriously. I'll talk to Dumbledore about it, I'm sure he'll approve. Are there other seventh years looking to become Aurors? We could open it up to anyone who's interested."

"That sounds incredible, sir," Clarence said, finding her voice at last.

"Great," he said, eyes twinkling. "I'm happy to see you guys so excited to learn this stuff."

His gaze met Tonks's for a moment, and her stomach gave a lurch. This was not the normal, teasing look he usually gave her. His eyes seemed to stare directly into her soul for a split second, before tearing themselves free. She was left feeling slightly unbalanced. But there was no time to reflect on it, for Professor Lupin was already rubbing his hands together, looking boyishly excited.

"So, where do you guys want to start?"

* * *

Harry knocked on the door to Lupin's office the next night, feeling distinctly nervous. He respected Professor Lupin quite a lot, and was eager to get back into the man's good graces. Lupin's slightly hoarse voice called him to come in, and he entered the office.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts office was different every year, reflecting the personalities of the constantly changing professors. Last year, Lockhart had had pictures of himself on every surface. Lupin's decorating job could not have been more different. The room was painted in shades of brown and green, and tanks lined every wall, containing creatures of all shapes and sizes. Some of the creatures Harry recognized from Scamander's _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, which his mother had made him read, but some of the creatures were completely foreign to him. After gaping around the room for several seconds, he finally noticed that Malfoy was already there, standing in front of Professor Lupin's desk looking mutinous.

"This has got to be illegal, you can't make us do this," he sneered at Lupin, who only smiled.

"I have the full support of Professor Dumbledore, so yes, I _can_ make you do this."

"Make us do what?" Harry asked, confused. Malfoy shifted on his feet angrily.

"He wants us to go into the Forbidden Forest to find Hagrid's damn _dog_!" he spat out. "I'm not risking my life for that overgrown mutt, can't the half-breed go get it himself?"

Something in Professor Lupin's eyes sparked at the word _half-breed_, but his calm smile remained.

"Hagrid is currently engaged in a mission for the Auror department, and asked me to find Fang for him in the meantime. He got lost while Hagrid was hunting," Lupin explained to Harry, who was still looking vaguely confused. "Finding him will be much easier with three people, instead of just one. I'll be with you the whole time, you'll be perfectly safe."

Malfoy was looking supremely unconvinced, and to be honest, Harry wasn't feeling too sure about the idea either. The last time he'd been in the Forbidden Forest, a giant spider had almost eaten him. It was not a memory he relished. But Professor Lupin was already putting on a jacket, and tucking his rarely-used wand into his back pocket. He was looking tired and worn that evening, Harry noticed, and his clothes hung off his frame as though he had rapidly lost weight. Frankly, he didn't look up to a night of tramping around a dark forest full of Dark Creatures. But he turned to the boys, smiled, and gestured to the door.

"Shall we?"


	6. Chapter 5

_I can't believe I'm doing this. This is stupid. And cold. And wet. I'm gonna fucking __end__ Potter for getting me into this…_

Draco ducked to avoid yet another wet branch snapping back towards his face, and gasped as his foot landed right in a large, wet puddle. Lupin apparently did not believe in sticking to the trail, and Potter seemed to be trying his hardest to hit Draco with the backlash of every branch he walked by.

"Oy! Quit it, Potter!" he snarled, ignoring Lupin as the insufferable man looked back and held his finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked slightly at Draco's sodden, muddy state. But when he turned back to continue on, he began making a concerted effort not to send any shrubbery whipping back towards his blond archenemy.

Potter had been acting strangely towards him the entire night. He had barely responded to Draco's usual snide remarks and insults, and had taken to staring at him when he thought the blond boy wasn't looking. Draco shoved a fern out of his way with more force than was necessary, anger burning in his blood as he realized what must have triggered the change. Potter had seen his back. So had Lupin. He had seen it in both of their faces the previous afternoon. Potter had been confused and concerned which was bad enough, but Lupin's eyes had held a sad kind of understanding that made Draco want to punch something.

How could he possibly understand? He had no idea what it was like, to have a father who hated everything in the world, including you. He had no idea what it was like to love that father, to try and please him, and receive nothing but pain and abuse in return. He had no idea what it was like to have that father taken away, sent to Azkaban, and be left with only his awful reputation to wear like a shield against the harsh world.

Draco cursed loudly as a large drop of water fell down the back of his neck from the trees above.

"_Goddammit_! This is _ridiculous –_"

He was abruptly silenced by Potter's hand over his mouth. The black-haired boy's eyes were wide and frightened as he pulled Draco down to hide behind a tree. Draco struggled, confused, but Harry's grip was relentless.

"_Quiet!" _Potter hissed, hand still firmly over his classmate's mouth. "_We're not alone._"

Voices drifted through the trees to Draco's ears. Freeing himself from Harry's hands, Draco looked around and saw that Lupin was nowhere to found.

_He left us. He fucking LEFT us!_

But there was no time to dwell on this betrayal. The speakers were getting nearer, and they didn't sound friendly.

"I'm telling you, Bane, I smell something."

The voice was deep, rough, wild and cruel. A shiver ran down Draco's spine, and he pressed his back to the tree alongside Harry.

"You're imagining things, Ronan. The humans aren't stupid enough to come here at night. They know what we would do to them if they did."

The second voice was, if possible, even crueler than the first, which now chuckled with a malice that made Harry grab Draco's forearm in fear. It was a mark of how frightened Draco was as well that he didn't shake the other boy off. They barely dared to breath as they heard strangely heavy footsteps slowly approaching their hiding place.

"It's coming from over here…" the first voice growled, sending Draco's pulse skyrocketing. "Can't you smell it?"

Ronan and Bane couldn't have been more than five feet away from where Harry and Draco sat, paralyzed, when suddenly a loud cry rang out through the trees.

"Fang! Oy, _Fang!_"

It was Lupin. Loud curses and the sound of heavy footfalls thundering through the undergrowth away from them signaled the abrupt departure of Ronan and Bane. The two boys peered around the tree, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be two horses galloping away from them. The men riding them seemed very odd, however, and upon closer inspection Harry discovered why.

"_Centaurs!_" he exclaimed, awe momentarily outweighing his lingering fear. He looked around to Draco but found that the blond boy was already on his feet, striding quickly back in the direction of the castle. Harry scrambled to his feet and took off after him.

"Hey! Malfoy! Where are you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going, Potter?" he snapped, not even looking round at the boy at his heels. "Back to the castle! I've had enough of this stumbling around in the dark, waiting for centaurs and vampires and _who knows what else_ to come find us!"

Harry grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back. "What about Professor Lupin?"

Draco shook him off. "What about him?"

"He just saved our skins, and you're just gonna leave him to deal with those centaurs _alone_?"

"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself," Draco spat, continuing to crash through the undergrowth. "He got us into this mess in the first place. Besides, what help would _we_ be?"

"You're a _coward_!" Harry shouted angrily. Draco stopped abruptly, his shoulders painfully tense. He turned around and stalked back to Harry, staring at him with cold, furious eyes.

"Say that again," he hissed. Harry didn't even hesitate, his voice clear and accusing.

"You're a _coward_."

Malfoy's hands flashed out, grabbing the collar of Harry's shirt in a surprisingly strong grip. He pulled the other boy forward until their noses were practically touching. Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden proximity.

"Listen to me, you spoiled little mama's boy," Draco hissed. "You think you know what courage is? You think courage is going off and doing something _stupid_ just because you couldn't live with yourself if you didn't? If that's what you think, then be my guest: go and get yourself killed, but don't expect me to join you."

He shoved Harry away from him and turned around, striding towards the castle. But Potter's voice called out again.

"Well then, help me."

Draco stopped, turning slightly back to look at the boy he really wanted to punch in the nose right now. Harry was looking at him defiantly, challenging him.

"If you know so much about courage, then get your head out of your ass and help me to help Professor Lupin."

He grinned ruefully. "I wasn't planning on doing anything stupid, but maybe if you come along you can make sure of that."

Draco stared at the black-haired boy, realizing that this was the first time anyone had ever asked him for help. It made him feel… good, somehow. Wanted.

Several seconds passed before he cleared his throat, shifting to face Harry fully.

"I guess I can help you look for the bloody idiot," he said cautiously, gauging Harry's reaction as the other boy began to smile sincerely. "But don't expect any self-sacrificing heroics from me – _I'm_ way more important to me than _Lupin_ is."

Harry shrugged. "Fair enough. Let's go."

* * *

It had been almost two hours since they had gotten separated from Professor Lupin, and both boys were nearing the end of their tether. Using a clever compass spell that Draco knew, they had managed to keep from getting hopelessly lost, but they were no closer to finding any sign of Lupin, Fang, or even the centaurs. It was now the darkest part of the night, and they were having difficulty taking even a few steps without tripping over some tree root or other.

In the darkness, the two boys began to huddle closer together, the strange sounds of the forest making them uneasy. Suddenly Draco, who was walking slightly behind Harry, tripped and flew forward, knocking Harry to the ground with him. They landed with a thump in a pile of leaves, wounding nothing but their pride. Harry lay facedown in the surprisingly comfortable pile, contemplating the utterly ridiculous situation they were in, and suddenly found himself laughing uncontrollably. He rolled over to find Draco – lying on his back in exhaustion – looking at him like he was insane.

"I – I just…" he attempted to explain through his slightly hysterical laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. "What – what are we doing right now?"

He continued to laugh, and looked over to find that in spite of himself, Draco was slowly beginning to smile as well. Several seconds later, his soft chuckles joined Harry's, and the two boys simply lay in the leaves for a moment, laughing.

Eventually, Harry stood and brushed leaves out of his hair. He reached down, holding a hand out to Draco. The blond boy – after a moment of hesitation – took it, and allowed Harry to pull him to his feet. Harry looked at him for a long moment, and then the question that had been burning in the back of his mind all night long suddenly burst from his mouth.

"What happened to your back?"

Draco's face closed off in an instant, his eyes suddenly guarded and angry. He turned away.

"None of your business, Potter."

Cursing under his breath, Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Did someone hurt you? You can talk to my dad, he'll make sure whoever did it gets what's coming to them."

"Your dad can stuff it," Draco snapped, starting to stride away angrily. Harry felt a flare of anger at the insult, but squashed it. The look of shame and fear on Draco's face when the scars were exposed flashed across his mind's eye, and he willed himself to be patient.

"Draco!" he called, only realizing after the word had left his mouth that it was the first time he had called the boy by his given name. "Draco, wait!"

The blond boy stopped, probably also realizing that some sort of line had just been crossed. He turned back to Harry, his eyes still angry.

"Draco," Harry stammered, not sure what he wanted to say, not sure what he _should_ say. "I – I just want to help. I know we don't always get along – well okay, we _never_ get along, but… but that doesn't mean I want to see you get hurt."

Draco stared at him for a long, tense moment, as though assessing whether or not Harry was serious. Finally he spoke, his voice brittle, as though he was trying to sound angry but was truly fighting back tears.

"The person who hurt me is in Azkaban now. Your father helped to put him there."

Harry's eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly in horror. Draco's gaze dropped, and the two boys stood in stunned silence. Finally, Harry spoke, his voice rough and emotional.

"Draco… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, mate." The words fell out of his mouth, and Draco looked up, a spark of anger in his eyes.

"Don't pity me," he snarled, and Harry shook his head vehemently. "That's… that's not what I meant. I just… I'm sorry that I've been such a dick to you. I can't even imagine how hard this all must be."

Draco dropped his gaze again, shoulders hunched. "Yeah well, life isn't fair. You take what you get." His mouth quirked up slightly. "Besides… I've been kind of a dick to you too."

A long, mournful howl split the air, interrupting the boys and sending them diving for the cover of a nearby bush. They hunched behind it, looking around with wide eyes.

"Is it a werewolf?" Harry whispered to Draco, who shook his head.

"It's not full moon. It sounded like one though."

A large animal was crashing through the undergrowth not far from them. Harry turned to Draco.

"If we stay here, it's gonna find us eventually. I say we jump out and stun it."

Draco nodded. "Good idea. But let's go from different angles – that way there's no way it can get both of us."

"Brilliant. I'll go around in front, you follow it. When I hoot like an owl, it's go time."

Draco nodded, and crept away into the undergrowth. Harry positioned himself in the animal's path, waiting until it was almost upon him before hooting.

The two boys leapt out of the bushes, brandishing their wands bravely at… a very frightened looking wolfhound named Fang. Draco and Harry recognized the dog instantly, and dropped their wand hands, relieved. Fang was quite possibly even more relieved. Whimpering excitedly, he ran to Harry's side and began licking his hand, looking for food. Chuckling, Harry reached up to scratch the huge, cowardly dog's ears.

"Hullo, Fang."

Draco walked over and also patted the wolfhound, saying grudgingly, "Never thought I'd be happy to see this old mutt."

Suddenly, the sound of shouting and a galloping horse broke the peace. A wild-looking centaur broke through the trees not a hundred yards away, charging straight at them. Fang howled in fear and cowered behind the two boys, who raised their wands as one.

"_Stupefy!_" they both cried. One stunning spell was not enough to fell an enraged centaur, but two well-cast stunners did the job quite nicely. Harry and Draco watched in shock as the centaur collapsed into the undergrowth.

The two boys slowly turned to look at each other, both grinning widely. They started to laugh, and were surprised by the sound of a deeper chuckle joining theirs. Spinning around, they found Professor Lupin leaning casually against a tree not too far away. Fang had already found him and was nuzzling at his hand, looking in vain for food. The boys stared at him in shock.

"Where have _you_ been?" Draco asked accusingly. "Why did you leave us to deal with a centaur and a useless dog all by ourselves?"

Lupin smiled, his eyes twinkling at them. "You two had it under control," he said, gesturing towards the unconscious centaur. "Why would you need me?"

* * *

Albus Dumbledore waited at the east door of Hogwarts, watching the bedraggled trio approach the castle in the faded light of very early morning. Even from a distance, he could tell that all three of them were utterly exhausted, though Remus bore it better than the two boys, who were practically propping each other up. As they neared him, he asked mildly, "Successful night, boys?"

They looked up, and Remus smiled tiredly. Draco and Harry shared the sort of glance reserved for people who had been through battle together – pride, exhaustion, and a newfound understanding shining through in that simple gesture. Though Albus retained his mild expression as he looked at them, he could feel his heart soaring. Perhaps there was hope after all, and not just for these two.

Draco answered Dumbledore's question, adolescent voice strained with fatigue. "Yes, sir. Fang is back, safe and sound."

"Wonderful," Albus replied, smiling kindly down at the exhausted but triumphant boys. "Well, you two must be tired. I'm sure your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will understand if you miss class this morning."

He winked at Remus, who grinned. "Go sleep it off, boys," he said. "You've earned it. Good work tonight."

They smiled gratefully at him, and turned to traipse inside, not seeming to notice that their shoulders were still touching. Remus and Albus watched as they disappeared into the castle.

When they were gone, Albus turned back to the tired young man before him.

"I must say, Remus, that I am impressed. Those two have been at each other's throats since day one, and now look at them."

The young man chuckled. "Well, let's not get excited too soon. Who knows if it'll stick."

"How on earth did you do it?"

Remus grinned. "A little help from our friends Ronan and Bane. They were quite tickled by the whole thing, really. I think they were both actors in another life. Though I'm going to have to get Bane a very large bottle of Ogden's to make up for the rather nasty _stupefy_ he got at the end there…"

For the first time in a long while, Albus Dumbledore laughed outright.

"Brilliant," he chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Though you may have to work a little harder to convince Harry and Draco that most centaurs aren't actually bloodthirsty savages."

"Yes, I'm sure the truth will come out eventually," Remus said, smiling ruefully. "But by that time, I hope Harry and Draco will have truly gotten over their differences."

"It appears as though they're already well on their way," Albus said, placing a wrinkled hand on the young man's shoulder. Remus looked up at him, his rueful smile turning shy as Dumbledore looked at him proudly.

"Speaking of sleep, you look like you could use some yourself Remus," the old man said. Remus nodded, stifling a yawn.

"Think I'll mosey on up to bed for a few hours," he said, nodding to Albus and turning to slowly climb the stairs into the castle. Dumbledore watched him go, brow creased slightly in worry as he saw how much weight the young man had lost. The full moon was the day after tomorrow, and though Severus was brewing Wolfsbane for him, lycanthropy still took quite a toll on Remus's body.

Albus spared a moment to remember just how he had met Remus Lupin, and gave a sad sigh. He felt quite responsible for the young man, but quite often Remus was at the mercy of things Albus could not control – the physical ailments of his condition being only one of them.

Albus turned his face back to the first lines of daylight on the horizon, still contemplating Remus. The wizarding world had been stuck in a rut for so long. But this vibrant young man, this werewolf professor… he might be the one to pull them all out of it.

**Thanks so much for all the reviews!**


	7. Chapter 6

The term was passing swiftly, and the number of seventh years taking Professor Lupin's nighttime DADA supplement course had grown to over a dozen. Most were looking to apply to the Auror Department, but some of the seventh years were angling for the other more dangerous career paths – curse breaking for Gringotts, the Department of Mysteries, the Department of Magical Creatures…

Professor Lupin taught a class every Monday night, usually going into more detail on the skills they had learned during regular DADA classes. Most other nights of the week, he was there to help students on a more informal basis. Rarely did a night pass without at least a couple of teenagers coming to the Room of Requirement with questions about dueling techniques or physical defense tactics.

It was Halloween, and Tonks was alone in the padded gymnasium, enjoying the rare moment of solitude. Over the past few months she had felt herself growing stronger and faster – both physically and mentally – under Professor Lupin's tutelage. The Auror training program was on the horizon, and she was pushing herself to the limit to get there successfully. Hence the workout session at eleven on a Friday night, when all of her friends were busy getting drunk in Hogsmeade.

She was not expecting anyone to join her this late at night, and so she danced around one of the punching bags in shorts and a sports bra, sweat dripping down her face as she pummeled the hard leather. She had never been especially sporty – two left feet and the coordination of a baby giraffe didn't help much in that regard – but she was hoping that magical prowess and sheer physical stamina would make up for her supreme clumsiness.

Tonks jumped in surprise and whipped around when the door banged open and bounced back against the wall. Professor Lupin wasn't in a very good mood, by the sound of things. He was obviously as surprised to see her there as she was to see him. They gawked at each other for several seconds as the Weird Sisters wailed in the background. His hair was mussed and sticking up haphazardly, his face lined with exhaustion, and Tonks could still see the remnants of a frighteningly haunted look in his eyes before he schooled his features back to his normal friendly neutrality. He had the look of someone who had just woken from a very bad dream.

His eyes flickered down and he went slightly red, quickly turning to fix his gaze on the noisy radio. Realizing what had flustered him, Tonks cursed under her breath and summoned her shirt from the other side of the room, quickly pulling it over her head.

"Sorry, Professor," she said awkwardly, turning the radio down with a flick of her wand. "I didn't think anybody else would be here."

He looked back up at her, a slightly sheepish smile on his lips as he ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Yeah, neither did I. Aren't all the seventh years in Hogsmeade tonight?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

He gave her a questioning look. "Then why are you here? I mean, your work ethic is admirable, but everyone needs a break now and then. Why don't you go join your friends?"

She turned back to the punching bag, tapping it half-heartedly with her fists. "I can go out with my friends after I've applied to the Auror program. Till then, I have to focus on getting in."

She heard his footsteps approach, and turned to see him standing right next to her, hands in his pockets and concern in his eyes.

"Miss Tonks, why are you so stressed about this? The Auror training program is exactly that – a _training_ program. They don't expect you to be perfect coming in, that's why you have three more years of classes before you're fully qualified. I don't think getting in is going to be a problem for you."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically at him.

"I'm serious," he continued, sensing that she was not convinced. "You're obviously very talented, you're a hard worker, and you're passionate about the job. Throw being a Metamorphmagus on top of all that, and they'd be fools not to take you."

She flinched almost imperceptibly, and turned away from him, focusing her attention once again on the punching bag.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and for the first time since she had met him, she kind of wished he would just go away.

"Nothing," she muttered, throwing a poorly executed right hook at the bag and cursing when her wrist bent painfully.

Professor Lupin pulled her gently away from the punching bag and, despite her protests, took her wrist in his large hands. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise when the pain immediately subsided. He smiled at her, ignoring her shocked expression.

"I think you'll live," he said, still holding her wrist lightly between his hands. It was impossible to stay annoyed with him when his warm, calloused palms were touching her skin and unleashing butterflies in her stomach. She smiled back at him.

"You don't like it when people say you're a Metamorphmagus," he said. It was not a question. She reluctantly pulled away from him, and started to take the white tape off her hands.

"No," she said, opting for honesty. "I don't. I don't like feeling as though I'm defined by something I have no control over."

She looked up from her hands to see him staring intently at her. Her stomach lurched again. _Why does it always do that when I'm around him?_ she wondered as she continued.

"I want to be valued for _who_ I am, not _what_ I am. I know that being a Metamorphmagus is a huge advantage when you're an Auror, but I'm going to earn my place just like everyone else."

She raised her chin defiantly, and he smiled at her. "I have no doubt that you will. I didn't mean to imply otherwise, forgive me."

She smiled back at him, and he took a breath, as though he wanted to say more. After a moment of hesitation, he continued.

"As for what you said – about how you don't like being defined by something you can't control… I think you'll find that many people share that sentiment. You're not alone in that."

Before she had a chance to ask him what he meant, he turned away, grabbing a roll of tape to put on his hands. She continued to remove the tape from hers, contemplating what he had just said. She thought of Terry and her other gay friends, and Lee Jordan and the other minority students at Hogwarts. Professor Lupin was right: they would know just as well as she did how it felt to be defined by – and often mocked for – the one thing that made you different.

Professor Lupin was almost done wrapping his hands. Tonks examined him for a while, taking in the lines of fatigue on his face, and the way his clothes seemed to hang off his suddenly thin frame. The man was a mystery. Over the past few months, he had gone from lithe but muscular to almost painfully skinny, then back again. Now, he seemed to be returning to a skeletal state. His face was pale and drawn, and though he often seemed vaguely tired, tonight he looked almost dead on his feet.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out before her brain could stop her. He looked up at her questioningly.

"Same thing you are. Working out."

"Yeah but – no offense Professor… but you look like you could use a good night's sleep, not a workout."

His eyes darkened momentarily – a flash of the hollow look on his face when he first entered. But he covered it so quickly with a genial grin that Tonks wondered if she had imagined it.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, the lightness in his voice almost imperceptibly strained. "Chronic insomnia. Hence why I'm always here, goofing off with you guys."

He turned to one of the punching bags, then seemed to think better of it. Looking back at her, he said, "Tonks… this room is gonna be here all weekend. But your friends are having fun in Hogsmeade _now_. Even Aurors have social lives."

Slowly, a grin spread across her face. Admitting defeat, she nodded and grabbed her stuff.

"Have a good night, Professor," she said, heading for the door.

"You too, Tonks."

As she opened the door, she heard him begin to hit the punching bag. Hesitating, she looked back. He was already lost in the motions, attacking the bag with a single-minded aggression that both frightened and excited her. But as he shifted to place a well-aimed kick on the hardened leather, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. Hollow… haunted.


	8. Chapter 7

Tonks kept a close eye on Professor Lupin over the next few weeks. Their encounter in the gym on Halloween night had confused her – and though she felt rather stupid admitting it to herself, it had also worried her. There was obviously much more to Remus Lupin than the calm, mostly cheerful façade he put on for his students, and as she spent more time with him in class and in the Room of Requirement, she became more adept at spotting the chinks in his armor.

The most obvious mystery of Professor Lupin was his constantly changing physical appearance. Some days he seemed barely older than the seventh years, face lit up with energy and his body muscular and youthful. But other days he looked almost as old as her cousin Sirius, his face lined with weariness and his frame thin and almost skeletal. The strangest thing was the way his eyes shifted in parallel, going from a sparkling hazel green to a dull gold in color and back again.

The first time she really noticed this inexplicable phenomenon, she had been so shocked that she accidentally jinxed Stanley Shunpike instead of her own practice partner, a tall Ravenclaw boy called Dennis Arthur. Swearing, she fumbled with her wand and finally managed to make Stan's legs stop doing the Highland Fling, only to turn back and find Professor Lupin looking at her in amusement, his eyes unarguably golden brown. He couldn't be a Metamorphmagus too, he would have said something. And if his constantly disheveled state was anything to go by, he was not the sort of bloke who went in for cosmetic spellwork. So how were his eyes a blatantly different color?

Then there were the less obvious mysteries of Professor Lupin. His almost preternatural ability to sense who was around him, even if they hadn't made a sound. The deliberate professionalism of his motions when he showed them how to fight and defend. His sometimes pale and sickly countenance, the occasional days when he was too ill to teach, and the almost imperceptible flinch when anyone reached to touch him.

Yes, Professor Remus Lupin definitely had secrets, and Tonks was definitely curious. And though she would never admit it, she was also just the tiniest bit concerned. Something told her that the pain she had glimpsed on Halloween was always there, hidden behind his changing eyes.

* * *

The Great Hall was always a lively place, but lunch on the last day of the term was especially boisterous. The last of the students had just completed Professor Lupin's end of term evaluation – an hour long obstacle course filled with physical and magical defense challenges that simulataneously exhausted and exhilarated the teenagers, many of whom had never even dreamed they would be able to do the things Professor Lupin had taught them to excel at in four short months. The kitchens had had to increase the output of food over the term, in order to compensate for the increased appetites of hundreds of children who spent hours each day running around outside learning practical DADA skills. Christmas break was only a day away, and the hall was practically buzzing with excitement.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry were doing something that, three months ago, would have seemed absolutely ludicrous. They were sitting at the Slytherin table, talking animatedly to Draco, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. Pansy was showing them all a miniature dragon that her older sister had sent from Romania, where she worked on the same team as Charlie. The tiny dragon tottered over to a plate of rolls and released an even tinier jet of flame, looking quite annoyed when only a small section of a roll turned brown under the heat.

The teenagers laughed, and the dragon let out a small squeak of indignation. A chuckle from above them brought their attention up to Professor Lupin, who was looking at the tiny dragon with wonder. He leaned down, bracing himself against the edge of the table between Blaise and Ginny.

"A tiny Hungarian Horntail!" he said, grinning. "That's fantastic. Did your sister send you that, Pansy?"

The black-haired girl nodded, blushing slightly under Professor Lupin's gaze. "This one's just a toy. She said that they managed to catch a real one the other day, before it could attack a village," she said, clearly proud of her older sister. "It all sounded pretty crazy, I don't think I could deal with a dragon bigger than this one," she gestured to the small creature, which was still trying and failing to burn things. Professor Lupin grinned at her.

"Oh, I think with enough training and practice, you'd do just fine," he said, his tone ringing with confidence. "Dragons aren't that bad, really. They only attack villages when they're really hungry, or when they feel threatened. If people just left 'em alone, and threw 'em a sheep every once in a while, they'd be perfectly happy. That's generally what dragon tamers try to do – keep the dragons happy so they don't _have_ to resort to burning down villages."

As he spoke, he slowly held his bare hand out to the tiny creature. The children had avoided touching it, preferring to move it around with their wands, though it was clearly not very dangerous. They watched as Professor Lupin lay his hand flat on the table near the small dragon, palm up to the ceiling. The creature eyed this strange new object, slowly approaching it and smelling it cautiously. Professor Lupin waited patiently for the dragon to make up its mind, and finally the tiny dragon stepped awkwardly up onto his calloused palm. Slowly – clearly trying not to alarm it – Professor Lupin raised it up, cupping his hand slightly so it wouldn't fall off. The Hungarian Horntail looked around, obviously enjoying this new vantage point. Professor Lupin brought it close to him, examining it with curious golden brown eyes.

"This is a brilliant replica," he said enthusiastically. "It's exactly like the real thing. Did she make this?"

Pansy nodded, and he slowly returned it to the table.

"Well, the Parkinson family is clearly very talented," he said, and she blushed again, smiling at him. He straightened, sticking his hands in his pockets, and smiled as he looked at the four Gryffindors and three Slytherins sitting at the table.

"You'll be happy to know that you all got full marks on your end of term evaluations."

His smile broadened as their eyes lit up and they grinned at each other. Hermione was almost bouncing out of her seat in excitement as he continued.

"I'm very proud of you all. And I'm looking forward to next term. Have a very happy Christmas!"

His words suddenly reminded Harry of something his father had been bugging him about for weeks.

"Oh, Professor Lupin!"

The young man turned back at Harry's words, brow raised slightly.

"Do you want to come to my Uncle Sirius's house in London for Christmas and Boxing Day? My dad wanted me to ask you."

Professor Lupin now raised both eyebrows, clearly quite surprised. Harry continued rather nervously.

"The Weasleys are gonna be there, and Hermione and her parents, and the Longbottoms and the Tonkses. It's a big house," he said, feeling the need to explain why it seemed like half the Wizarding World went to Grimmauld Place every Christmas break. "Draco and his mum are coming next year, right?" he said, turning to the blond boy across the table. Draco gave him a small, cautious smile, and nodded. Harry grinned and turned back to Professor Lupin.

"You want to come? There's lots of food, and sometimes Fred and George don't spike the punch, but most of the time they do, so it's a lot of fun."

Professor Lupin's look of surprise was fading into a shy, happy smile as he realized that Harry was actually serious. He seemed genuinely touched.

"That's wonderful of you to ask me Harry, thank you," he said. "And thank your father for me too. I wish I could come, but I have to go back to Bulgaria to deal with a few things. I'll be thinking of you all, though. Give my best to everyone!"

He bowed his head slightly in farewell, and turned to walk towards the staff table, his lips still curled up in a faint, happy smile. They watched him as he slowly climbed to the raised dais, as though his joints ached. His clothes were hanging off him again.

"Why does he look so ill so much of the time?" Hermione asked to nobody in particular. She was met with a chorus of shrugs, though she could tell that she was not the only one who wondered.

* * *

The children left for Grimmauld Place the next day, invigorated by the most exciting and productive term they had ever had at Hogwarts. When they arrived in London, the Weasley and Potter siblings, along with Hermione, Neville, and Tonks, seized the opportunity to grill their Auror relations for every scrap of information they could get about Professor Lupin. How old was he? Had he really ridden a dragon? How many Death Eaters had he caught? Did he have a girlfriend? (This last question was Ginny's, and earned her quite a bit of ribbing from her older brothers.)

As it turned out, the teenagers had quite a few Aurors around to question. Fabian and Gideon and their gaggle of red-haired Prewetts had decided to join in the fun at Grimmauld Place this year, bringing the number of Aurors and former members of the Order of the Phoenix to six, including James, Sirius, Frank and Alice. They were all quite amused by the endless barrage of questions about Remus, and answered them as best they could. They weren't sure how old he was, but probably around 24 or 25. He had not – to their knowledge – ridden a dragon, but Sirius told them quite an impressive story about how he had ridden a hippogriff right in front of a Hungarian Horntail, using himself as bait to draw the dragon away from a village and towards the tamers who waited with tranquilizer guns (Ron gave Charlie a dirty look, but the young man looked utterly unrepentant for embellishing the story). He had caught 9 Death Eaters, including the ones on the train, and he did not – again, to their knowledge – have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, for that matter.

"To tell you the truth, we don't really know that much about him either," Sirius said, sipping on a tumbler of Firewhiskey as they all sat on various armchairs and couches in the large Grimmauld library. Faint sounds of loud children echoed from downstairs, where Sirius's wife Marlene was trying to wrangle their three rambunctious children, Regulus, Rosa, and Peter. "He likes to keep to himself. Helps out when we need him, does a damn good job, makes a few jokes, then sorta melts back into the trees where he came from. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Maybe he has a whole brood of little Lupins that we don't know about!"

Sirius shrugged, grinning over at his fellow Aurors. Tonks felt an alarming stab of jealousy at his words.

"Why are you asking _us_ all these questions?" James said. "Why didn't you guys ask _him_?"

Ron gave a short bark of laughter. "I don't know if you've noticed, but he's a little intimidating."

"He's not that intimidating!" Tonks interjected, feeling defensive of him in the wake of her strange bout of jealousy. "He's very nice, actually. He just really knows what he's doing, which I guess makes him seem a little scary."

Sirius raised his glass to that. "He most definitely knows what he's doing. Dumbledore did well to bring him to Hogwarts, I feel a lot better knowing that you all are learning from him."

He was met with a chorus of nods from his fellow Aurors. Fabian leaned forward in his seat.

"I'm actually curious about what he's teaching you," he said, clear blue eyes looking mostly at his nieces and nephews. "What subjects is he covering?"

No one was surprised when Hermione jumped to answer his question.

"This past semester we learned the basics of physical defense – what Muggles would call karate or mixed martial arts – and we began to learn how to duel. Next semester we're going to learn about Dark Creatures, and Professor Lupin told me that he's also going to teach us some healing spells, and the basics of wandless magic."

Many adult eyebrows raised in impressed surprise.

"Wow," James exclaimed, running a hand through his hair with practiced ease. "That's an ambitious syllabus. He must have heard about the DADA professor one-year curse, that's why he's jamming it all in this year."

His lips curled up, mostly kidding. Alice spoke up, ignoring him.

"Finally, somebody is teaching these kids what they actually need to know! I've always liked Remus, but this makes me respect him even more. I'd like to talk to him, is he coming here for Christmas?"

James shook his head.

"We invited him, but he had to go back to Bulgaria. Probably putting out somebody else's fire again," he muttered darkly. He looked at Sirius, and they exchanged an exasperated look. "Can you even imagine what that place would be like if he just gave up and left them to it?"

His father's words fired a curiosity in Harry that had been growing since the first day of the term.

"Dad, what's happening over there?" he asked. "In Eastern Europe, I mean. I know you don't like to talk about work but…"

He faltered as the Aurors' faces darkened perceptibly, but glanced around at the other teenagers, who looked like they wanted information just as badly as he did. To his surprise, Tonks took up his crusade.

"A lot of us want to be Aurors, James. And that means we'll be there within a few years anyway. Wouldn't it be better if we went into it with all the facts?"

James Potter stood abruptly, pacing over to the fire and standing with his back to them. He was silent for a long moment. Finally, without turning around, he spoke.

"Eastern Europe is a clusterfuck. That's the only term for it. It's been a clusterfuck for ten years, and there doesn't seem to be a lot of hope for it getting better. If there was any mercy in the world, none of you would ever have to go there, but I'm starting to think that the idea of mercy was blown up along with Kamena."

"Kamena?" Harry asked, a shiver running up his spine at the dark tone in his father's voice.

"We might as well start at the beginning, James," Sirius said, standing up to pour more Firewhiskey into his tumbler, and five more glasses for his fellow Aurors, who were looking resigned. "I think a story like this calls for a drink in our hands," he said, levitating the glasses to his friends. As an afterthought, he poured two more drinks and offered them to Charlie and Tonks, the only other people in the room who were of age. Shocked, Tonks accepted without thinking and lifted the glass to her lips, grimacing as the harsh liquid burned her throat.

James and Sirius settled back into their seats, and James began.

"I suppose all of this started during the War," he said, staring moodily into his whiskey. "Voldemort was using Dark Creatures in his army – werewolves, vampires, veelas, centaurs… you name it. Some of them were there by choice, but most of them were either Imperiused, or were coerced in some awful way. The Death Eaters had huge camps full of prisoners who were related to Dark Creatures, family members. Voldemort used them as leverage, forcing good people to do horrible things."

Harry heard several gasps echo around him. They had never been taught this in History of Magic. None of their textbooks made any mention of it. Why had this aspect of the War been erased? James continued.

"At the time, we didn't know that was happening. The Ministry enacted a lot of very strict, very prejudiced laws against Dark Creatures, and enforced them to the letter, even after the War. Dark Creatures had to be registered and branded. Any children who were lucky enough not to inherit the conditions were taken from their families. Dark Creatures couldn't get jobs in the Wizarding World, couldn't vote, couldn't enter most establishments, couldn't even walk down the street without being identified and attacked by various anti-Dark Creature groups. Unsurprisingly, almost all of the Dark Creatures in Britain escaped and went elsewhere. Some went to the Americas, others to Africa. But the largest emigration was to Eastern Europe. Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, the Ukraine, some parts of Greece… those countries already had large communities of Dark Creatures and their families, so it was a logical place to go. A lot of people went there thinking that they could start over, finally live in peace…"

James took a large swig of his whiskey, grimacing. Sirius, taking that as a cue, took over the story.

"But they weren't the only people who went to Eastern Europe. Voldemort's supporters – the ones who managed to escape – all went there as well. It's an easy place to hide. Forests and mountain ranges that go on forever, full of all sorts of dangerous creatures and dangerous people, with a climate that dissuades most of us from even finding it on a map. And when Voldemort's supporters met up with the same people they had tormented and coerced… well, you can imagine what happened."

"Wasn't pretty," James muttered. "And the worst thing about it was that the Ministry wouldn't let us do _anything_. We heard whispers, rumors of fighting and atrocities, but racist bureaucrats tied our hands behind our backs and wouldn't let us help. They preferred to believe that it wasn't happening, that all the scary things and scary people in the world died along with Voldemort."

His voice was bitter, angry. He got up to refill his glass.

"And then Kamena happened," Frank said softly, tracing the rim of his tumbler and staring blankly at the floor, his eyes distant.

James downed the Firewhiskey in one go.

"Kamena," he said, putting his tumbler down on the table with a crack. "Kamena was a travesty, a _godawful_… it's the sort of thing that happens in history books, not real life."

Harry glanced at Hermione, seeing her sad expression, and remembered her words at the opening feast four months ago.

"Is that… is that the town that was destroyed?"

Sirius nodded, swallowing thickly.

"Yes," he said. "978 people died, most of whom were entirely human. All of whom were entirely innocent of any crime – unless you think having a condition you didn't ask for and can't control is a crime."

"A lot people, even today, seem to think that's a crime punishable by death," Alice said, her voice wavering with a mixture of anger and immense sadness. She looked around at the teenagers, whose horrified eyes were fixed on her.

"Someone Portkeyed a huge bomb to the main street in Kamena," she said softly. "They didn't have any time to react, they didn't have any time to get out. The town was leveled. By the time we got there, there were only ashes left. Only ashes, where once there were 978 vibrant, living souls."

There was a very long, tense silence, as everyone tried to come to grips with that number, with that amount of senseless loss. Finally, Tonks asked quietly, "Did anyone survive? Did anyone make it out?"

Sirius nodded.

"We know at least one person survived. That's the only reason we found out about it. Whoever it was somehow managed to get to Dumbledore. Albus called in every member of the Order of the Phoenix, and we managed to stop H.A.W.E. before they could do the same thing to several other villages in Bulgaria."

"H.A.W.E.?" Fred asked.

"Humans Against Werewolf Equality," Alice explained. "It's a pretty terrible anagram, and they're a pretty terrible group of people. They claimed responsibility for the attack when it reached the news, they were _proud_ of it. There was a huge uproar in the Wizarding World, and for a while it really seemed as though things were going to get better. Some of the anti-Dark Creature laws were relaxed, making it easier for Dark Creatures to move back to Britain. The Aurors were allowed to go into Eastern Europe to start doing damage control. But, as with all atrocities, people began to forget. They forgot about all the lives lost, about all the lives that are _still _being lost… and their underlying fears and prejudices came back with a vengeance."

"The whole of Eastern Europe became a war zone almost overnight," James said, finally reentering the conversation. "Nobody knew anything about H.A.W.E. – who they were, where they were based… so people began to point the finger at each other. There was so much confusion, so much built up distrust and fear in the Dark Creature community, that all it took was a little injection of chaos here and there from H.A.W.E. and from the Death Eaters who were still skulking about. A few brief moments of violence from them, and the entire region erupted into confused, brutal anarchy."

"Why did they stay?" Hermione asked, baffled. "Why didn't they just leave?"

"Some of them did," James said. "But most of them had nowhere else to go. Only a few countries in the world let registered Dark Creatures through their borders, and conditions for them there are barely better. That brand, that registration as a Dark Creature – it's almost a death sentence. It means that you can either choose a life of poverty and constant fear in Britain, or a life of violence and revenge in Eastern Europe. And the Ministry still puts those brands on people, still forces them to make that choice. Nobody's blameless in this giant clusterfuck, but I'd say that Wizarding Britain has the biggest debts to pay. But there just aren't enough people in positions of power to make a push for change. The majority of the Wizarding World still hates Dark Creatures, and is perfectly happy to ignore the situation and let H.A.W.E. run amok, injecting chaos whenever it looks like different factions might make peace."

"Is that what the Aurors do over there?" Tonks asked cautiously, her head swimming slightly from the Firewhiskey she had surprised herself by finishing. "Do you try and negotiate peace between groups?"

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head. "The Ministry – or more specifically, _Dolores Umbridge_ – has created strict guidelines about what we can and cannot do."

His nose wrinkled in disgust when he mentioned Dolores Umbridge's name. Harry reasoned that she must not be a very pleasant person.

"If the Ministry pulled us out, it would call attention to the whole situation again, and they don't want that," Sirius continued. "So they limit what we can do. We can look for old supporters of Voldemort, we can distribute a set amount of food and medical supplies, and we can investigate and look for members of H.A.W.E."

"Who are remarkably hard to find," James grumbled, running his hand tiredly down his face.

"As for trying to negotiate peace…" Sirius continued, "well, that's where Remus comes in."

The children perked up at the mention of their favorite teacher.

"James and I met Remus just a few weeks after Kamena. He managed to convince a pack of very angry, very desperate werewolves that we were friends, not enemies. He goes places we would never dare to go, and talks to people who would kill us on sight, because they assume that outsiders are there to hurt them and their families. He knows the land, he knows the languages, he knows the _people_. And he _cares_. He cares so much that it's sometimes painful to talk to him, cause I don't know how he keeps going back. I don't know how he keeps investing time and energy and _love_ into people who quite often end up dead."

"But if he _didn't _go back, things would get a lot worse," Alice interjected. "It seems like a useless battle, but he _is_ making a difference. Several werewolf factions have formed alliances, some of the vampires are coming round to the idea of cooperating with us… none of that would have happened without him. He still makes the trip on weekends, the poor boy. Last time I saw him he looked practically dead on his feet."

"So _that's_ why he's never in his office on weekends!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And that's why he looks so ill so much of the time!" Ginny echoed. At this, Sirius glanced at James, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"He's from Bulgaria, isn't he?" Tonks said, vividly remembering the haunted look in his changing eyes. "He said he was raised by a British family near the Greek border."

Sirius nodded, looking suddenly wary.

"What…" Tonks stumbled over her words, deathly afraid of the answer to her question, but unable to stop herself from asking. "What about his family? Are they safe? Are they… are they Dark Creatures?"

Sirius stared at her for a long moment, searching her eyes intently. She held her ground, holding his gaze. She could tell that the other teenagers in the room were also waiting on tenterhooks for Sirius's answer. Finally, her cousin spoke, slowly and deliberately.

"If there's one thing I've learned in Eastern Europe, cuz, it's that you don't ask anybody about their family. Very rarely do you get an even remotely pleasant story. I joke about Remus having a brood of little Lupins out there somewhere, and wouldn't it be nice if that were true. But he doesn't talk about it, and I don't ask. If you care about his feelings at all, you won't ask either."

**Thanks for the reviews guys!**


	9. Chapter 8

_He needed to save them. He couldn't let them die at the hands of the others – the cruel ones with skulls on their forearms. Perhaps The Dark One would let his snake eat them, slowly, one at a time… No. No, he would get them out. He MUST get them out, for he had looked into the woman's mind and seen a baby, a child that she loved as much as his own mother had loved him. He hadn't saved his mother. Too small, too WEAK. But he was bigger now. He could save this woman, and the man as well._

_ The Dark One had tortured them. Crucio after crucio until he thought he would be sick. They would not last another day, their minds would be lost. _

_ He stood at the doorway to their cell, staring through the bars at them as they huddled together on the filthy floor. If someone caught him here, if someone caught him trying to help them… He did not fear death, but he did fear The Dark One. He feared the look in his cold eyes as he dealt out pain and despair to those who displeased him. He feared the Crucios, and he feared the snake, and he feared the cruel hands of the others…_

_ If he left now, nobody would ever know he had been here. Nobody would ever know that he had contemplated rebellion. _

_ But the woman looked up. Her eyes found his, and once again he saw in her mind a baby boy, not even a month old – the only reason she had held on this long. And he made his choice._

_ The woman opened her mouth, eyes confused as she looked at him. But he held a dirty finger to his lips, warning her to silence. He would not understand her words anyway. She spoke the same strange language as the others._

_ He unlocked the cell door with a wave of his hand. If The Dark One ever found out that he could do wandless magic, he would be dead in seconds. The woman scrambled to her feet, dragging the man up with her. The man was in bad shape, had been under the Cruciatus for longer. It was a long trek to the edge of the anti-Apparition zone, and the man would slow them down. But something in the woman's fierce gaze told him that leaving the man behind was not an option._

_ He held the door open, frantically motioning for her to come out. After only a moment of hesitation, she complied, almost dragging the man along with her. She flinched as he waved his hand yet again, disillusioning them so they blended in with the bloodstained walls of the dungeon. Then he grabbed her sleeve, tugging them along behind him as he navigated the labyrinth of corridors that led to the upper levels of The Dark One's castle. His heart pounded and blood roared in his ears as he peered around every corner, praying that the others were all still asleep. _

_ Finally, they reached their destination; a small window that he had spotted earlier. It faced the dark tangle of woods, and he had painstakingly removed the heavy magical wards that covered every other window and door in the castle. He looked at the woman, and she nodded, mouth set in grim determination. Murmuring to the man in their strange language, she helped hoist him up through the window and quickly followed. _

_ Suddenly, he could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. Cursing, he leapt for the window, slithering through and pushing it closed before grabbing the woman's sleeve again and plunging into the forest. Their escape would be noticed soon, and they had miles to go before he could send them to safety._

_ The forest was thick and labyrinthine, branches clawing at them from all sides as though the very trees were trying to return them to The Dark One. The man and woman were exhausted, weak, barely able to stay on their feet. But he dragged them along, making soft noises of frustration when they lagged behind. There was no time to be weak, no time to be hurt. There was only the border of the anti-Apparition zone ahead, and the minions of The Dark One behind. _

_ Sensitive ears picked out the sound of angry shouts far behind them. Their escape had been discovered. His pace quickened even more, and he guided them swiftly along the bank of a wide river and past a plunging waterfall. Not far now, not far._

_ The man stumbled and fell, and the woman cried out desperately. He turned back, heart in his throat and hands shaking with adrenaline. With a strength that he hadn't known he possessed, he hauled the man up and practically carried him onward, barely registering that the man was more than twice his size. The border was just there, just there…_

_ And suddenly, they were beyond it. He let the man fall to his knees, turning to the man and woman and preparing the spells that would take them to safety. When he looked up, they were both staring at him in wonder. In their minds, he could see their confusion – why was he helping them? Who was he? But there was no time, no time to try and explain. He could smell the others on the wind, he could smell their anger. He raised his hands. _

_But the woman grabbed his wrist lightly. She spoke, but he did not understand her words. Instead, he looked into her mind. She was asking if he was coming with them, if he was escaping too. But he had known before he even opened the door to their cell that for him, there was no escape. The Dark One would always find another person to hurt, another person to kill, another person who reminded him of his mother. He could not leave, knowing that no help would come to them. And he could not let this woman remember him. It was too dangerous. _

_He stepped back, shaking his head slowly. His hands moved in a memory spell, and watched as their faces slackened and the past few days disappeared from their minds. He waved his hands again, and they were gone. Gone, back to their baby boy._

_He needed to return to the castle. If the others discovered that he was missing as well, his treason would be discovered. He plunged back into the anti-Apparition zone. But there were angry voices on all sides, cruel shouts and spells exploding all around as the others searched for the escaped prisoners. He ran, ducking through the undergrowth and throwing himself behind trees, but desperation began to seep through his veins as he was pushed closer and closer to the river. _

_And then there was nowhere else to go. His blood froze as he heard the quiet, cold tones of The Dark One echo in the trees behind him as his feet slipped on the precipice of the waterfall. The ravine plunged hundreds of feet down, and he knew that he didn't have the strength to magically slow his fall. But The Dark One was getting closer, he would find him in a moment. And any other death was better than the one that would greet him if he was found._

_He looked up. The morning sun was just beginning to peek out above the trees. He closed his eyes and leapt. _


	10. Chapter 9

Professor Lupin's class was, if possible, even more intense in the second term. He was teaching the same subject – Dark Creatures – to all years with a passion that was impossible to ignore, and more than a little bit infectious.

Tonks didn't know why she was surprised by his wealth of knowledge on the subject. He had grown up in a part of the world where Dark Creatures were as common as garden gnomes, of course he would know everything about them. But sometimes she had to wonder just _how_ he knew some of the things he told them. Like the fact that a sphinx will roll over and giggle if you tickle it under the chin, or that centaurs are almost always allergic to peanuts.

The week they focused on vampires was probably the most challenging period of Tonks's life up to that point. Not only was Professor Lupin teaching them some incredibly complicated physical and magical defense techniques – he was also challenging everything they had ever been told about vampires and what they were like. A few days in, a question and answer session became especially heated when Daphne Podmore implied that vampires were evil, and therefore deserved to be persecuted.

"Imagine for a second," Professor Lupin said, pacing at the front of the classroom as late February rain pounded against the window outside. "Imagine that you're the child of a vampire. Over 75% of vampire offspring inherit the condition, so chances are, you're a vampire too. Through no fault of your own, you have a condition that makes everyone else hate and fear you. The government registers you as a Dark Creature, and puts a brand on your arm for everyone to see. You stop growing after the age of seventeen, and you stay seventeen for the rest of your immortal life. You're harassed in the street, you're not allowed to go to school, get a job, get married, even walk into a pub. And all the time you have this disease inside you, telling you to drink other people's blood. You don't want to do it, you know it's wrong, but you don't have the money or the means to buy blood substitutes to feed yourself. You're starving, all of your options have been taken away from you, and the people who throw rocks at you in the street are the very people you could eat for dinner. What do people _expect_? If our actions drive desperate people to do desperate things, we can't then turn around and blame them for it!"

"But not all vampires are as innocent as that!" Tonks surprised herself by interjecting. "Some of them really are evil! Look at Sveinn Nyström!"

A collective shiver went through the classroom. Sveinn Nyström was an infamous, ancient vampire who was reportedly responsible for more than a thousand murders over the past three centuries. He was the elusive subject of many terrifying stories that drunk teenage boys told around bonfires in order to get the girls to snuggle close in fear. Tonks felt a little silly bringing his name up in class, and half expected Professor Lupin to laugh at her, but instead his face darkened abruptly and he turned away, standing with his back to them and his hands on his hips. His head was bowed and his shoulders were tense, and Tonks suddenly felt a stab of worry. Had she hurt him, somehow? What was wrong?

After a long moment, Professor Lupin ran a hand down his face and turned back around, looking suddenly weary.

"You're quite right, Miss Tonks," he said softly, but she felt no amount of pride in the victory. "There are indeed some truly evil vampires in the world. But there are some truly evil humans as well. Imagine what it would be like if we judged all humans based on the actions of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. You cannot judge a group. Anyone who judges by the group is a peewit. You take people one at a time. And vampires – despite what the Ministry desperately wants you to believe – are indeed _people_."

He leaned back against his desk, running his hand down his face once more.

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't be on your guard when you encounter a vampire," he continued. "You should _always _be on your guard when you meet a Dark Creature, because they _are_ capable of hurting you. But all of _you_ are now capable of harming others too. You're well trained in dangerous physical and magical combat techniques. Does that mean you're going to go out and start attacking people? Does that mean you want to hurt anyone? _No_. But it does mean that if somebody attacked _you_, you would know exactly how to incapacitate them. Why is it any different for Dark Creatures? A large proportion of the Dark Creatures in Azkaban are there because they defended themselves and their families when humans attacked them, and the humans got hurt. The Ministry sides with the humans, and the Dark Creatures are sent to Azkaban for life."

Stunned, incredulous silence greeted his words. The students were staring at their professor in horror. Finally, Dennis Arthur asked, "Is that true, sir? How do you know that?"

His voice was shaking with the injustice of it all. Professor Lupin sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I know that because a lot of the people the Ministry sent to Azkaban are my friends. People I knew from Bulgaria who returned to Britain to try and find a better life."

He shifted against his desk, looking slightly uncomfortable with over twenty flabbergasted teenagers staring at him. He continued, and for the first time ever, he avoided eye contact with them, his gaze fixed resolutely on the floor.

"They were good people. They just wanted to live peaceful lives with the resources they needed to control their condition. If vampires and werewolves could get jobs, they would be able to buy blood substitutes and wolfsbane. If humans stopped wasting so much time fearing and persecuting them, then research could be done to increase the effectiveness of those potions, and perhaps even find cures. We could _solve_ the problem, instead of exacerbating it."

He looked around at the rows of thoughtful faces in front of him, still looking weary.

"Does that make sense?" he asked. A few people nodded slowly, but most were still lost in thought, letting his words roll around in their minds. He sighed, running his hand down his face for the third time. "I know it's a lot to think about, and I know that it's hard to let go of ideas that you've had your whole life. Believe me, I understand what it's like to be deeply afraid of something. I have met some truly terrifying Dark Creatures in my time."

He took a deep, shaking breath.

"In fact, the lovely Sveinn Nyström gave me these scars," he said, gesturing to the three parallel lines that ran from his left eye down his cheekbone, and under the collar of his shirt. His voice was strained, and Tonks was entirely certain that Nyström was anything but _lovely_. She heard horrified gasps echo around her at their professor's words.

"But the majority of the Dark Creatures I've met have been incredibly kind," he continued. "A family of vampires living in Estonia took me in for a few days last winter when I got stranded in a snowstorm. They saved my life, and I will always be immensely grateful to them."

He paused for a moment, letting his students digest all this information. It was really the first time he had opened up to them about anything to do with his personal life, and the small anecdotes were compelling, to say the least. After a moment, he continued.

"I guess what I'm trying to get across to you guys is this: you _do_ need to know how to defend yourself from Dark Creatures. You need to know their strengths and weaknesses, because there are indeed some evil people out there. But you also need to understand where the majority of them are coming from. You need to understand why their motivation is quite often desperation, not a desire to hurt people. If you understand that, then you might be able to help solve the _root _of the problem, instead of just perpetuating the cycle of violence."

There was a long, contemplative silence. Then the bell rang, and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws slowly began to pack their bags, still silent for the most part. Professor Lupin never assigned any homework in the traditional sense, had never even asked them to crack open a book. But he always managed to make them really think about something right before the end of class, so that the issue stuck in their minds over the next few days.

Normally, he held the door for them and wished them all well as they exited, but today he walked to the chair behind his desk and fell into it, running a hand through his unruly hair. Tonks took her time packing up, waiting until everyone else had left before approaching his desk.

"Professor Lupin?" she asked tentatively. He looked up.

"Can I help you, Tonks?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, sir, I was just wondering… are you alright?"

He raised a surprised eyebrow, and she quickly continued.

"It's just… you seemed kind of upset when I mentioned…" She trailed off, not wanting to say Nyström's name again. "I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to upset you."

The young man's mouth quirked up in a half smile, and his eyes regained some of their twinkling warmth as he looked up at Tonks. He seemed touched by her concern, and she smiled back at him, mentally cursing herself as a swarm of butterflies attacked her stomach.

"It's alright, Tonks," he said, still slumped back in his chair wearily. "You just took me by surprise, that's all. I didn't think that Sveinn was well-known in Britain."

"He's just sort of a… a ghost story, sir."

Lupin gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "That's good, I guess. He's not just a ghost story in Bulgaria."

The haunted tone in his voice, and the way his eyes seemed to focus on something far away from the DADA classroom made Tonks morbidly curious, but she managed to stop herself from asking more questions. It didn't look as though Professor Lupin was in any mood to answer them.

"Okay, well, I'm glad you're okay," she said awkwardly, "I've gotta go to History of Magic now, catch up on my sleep."

She blushed when she realized she had said that aloud. But at least it broke Professor Lupin out of his stupor, as he laughed out loud at her faux pas.

"That bad, eh?" he asked, standing up and sticking his hands in his pockets as he smiled down at her.

"Yeah, well, it's been said that Professor Binns has the charisma of a flobberworm," she grumbled, feeling foolish.

"Guess I'm lucky in that respect," he said, starting to walk her to the door. At her curious look, he continued. "I never really went to school, at least in a formal sense. No boring lectures for me. My family taught me almost everything I know."

He held the door open for her, looking down at her with a smile that was tinged with sadness. As she looked up at him, her cousin's words from Christmas break echoed in her head. _If you care about his feelings at all, you won't ask either…_

"Then I'm sure your family must be very proud of you," she said, boldly resting a hand on his arm. His eyes met hers in an intense gaze, and her breath caught. She needed to get out of there before she did something silly.

"See you tonight at Auror practice," she said quickly, turning and practically tripping out the door. She glared back at him when she heard his soft chuckle, then hurried off to History of Magic. She was most definitely late, but she couldn't bring herself to care.


	11. Chapter 10

Job application deadlines were approaching swiftly. The Auror Training Program required a written application with letters of recommendation, as well as a practical exam. Many of the other jobs that the seventh years wanted had similar requirements, so the nightly practice sessions in the gymnasium were becoming quite strenuous. Professor Lupin was often gone on weekends (probably in Eastern Europe, as Tonks informed her friends), and he seemed to be sick at least once a month, but he still found the time and energy to give them extra coaching.

It was mid-March, and the group of seventh years was practicing methods of fighting vampires, expanding upon what they had learned in class. The teenagers were working up a sweat, shedding layers as they sparred in pairs. Tonks – whose dogged determination to succeed was finally beginning to pay off – had outstripped the skills of her classmates, and therefore found herself facing a grinning Professor Lupin as a practice partner.

Sparring with Lupin was a vastly different proposition than sparring with one of her classmates. It went without saying that he was more experienced, but he was also _ruthless_. He obviously didn't believe in pulling any punches during practice, because Tonks was certain that she was going to have some serious bruises tomorrow. But she was nothing if not competitive, and she quickly found herself matching his ferocity with her own. He may be kicking her ass, but she was not going to go down without a fight.

They had been at it for over an hour, and Tonks was absolutely drenched in sweat. She had morphed her hair into short, neon pink spikes, reasoning that this would serve a dual purpose – keeping it out of her eyes, and potentially distracting her opponent with the garish color. But Professor Lupin was doing quite well at distracting _her_ with a much simpler aesthetic change: he had just removed his button-up flannel, and now stood in front of her wearing a thin cotton t-shirt.

He was in a muscular phase, and Tonks cursed silently to herself as she prepared for his next attack. _No fair_, she thought, briefly contemplating the idea of removing her own shirt in retaliation. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a small smirk on his lips that made her wonder whether he could read her thoughts. She glared at him, determination doubling. She did _not_ have a crush on him. And if he thought that baring his – admittedly very well-sculpted and mysteriously scarred – biceps at her was going to distract her from wiping the floor with his face, then he had another thing coming.

He grabbed her in the tight chokehold they had been practicing. Her muscles ached with overuse, but this time defeat was not an option. She grabbed his wrist like he had taught them. But this time, she remembered a technique from her childhood, when the neighborhood kids had bullied her for her strange hair colors and uncontrollable morphing. Gripping his wrist in both hands, she bored her thumbs ruthlessly into the pressure point near his vein. He gave a surprised yelp, his grip on her loosening slightly. Seizing the opportunity, she pried herself free and twisted around, using leverage and a strength she hadn't even known she possessed to bend his arm backward, driving him to the floor. She drove her knee into his back and pulled a wooden stake out of her belt, positioning it right over his heart.

"If you were a vampire, you'd be in pretty deep shit right now," she said breathlessly, her heart pounding so loud that she was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Somewhere in the distance, her fellow students were cheering. She released the man beneath her and stood up shakily, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Lupin jumped to his feet, turning to her with a grin that split his face and eyes that shone with pride. And then, to her complete surprise, he picked her up in a tight hug and whirled her around, laughing in excitement.

"That was brilliant!" he exclaimed, returning her feet to the floor but seeming to forget that his arms were still around her waist. She met his bright hazel eyes and grinned, momentarily forgetting that she _refused_ to have a crush on him, and reveling in the feeling of his body pressed against hers. For a moment it was like they were the only people in the room, standing there grinning at each other like idiots. She could have sworn that his gaze flickered to her lips and back up, and her breath caught, but then he was taking a step back, shaking his head slightly as if he had suddenly remembered where – and who – they were.

Suddenly looking self-conscious, he removed his arms from her waist and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, pushing it out of his eyes and off his forehead. She had never really been this close to him, and her gaze was drawn to his right temple where, in a place that was normally covered by his shaggy hair, she could see a large, misshapen scar. Upon closer inspection, she saw that his skull was actually slightly indented around the scar, and she let out an involuntary gasp. That was a horrific injury, how in the name of Merlin had it happened? Her concerned eyes flickered back to his, and he looked instantly uncomfortable as he realized what she had seen. He pushed his mop of hair back over the scar and gave her a wan smile. But she did not have a chance to contemplate it further, as she suddenly found herself surrounded by her excited classmates.

Practice was most definitely over, because there was no way anyone was going to be able to top the display Tonks had just given. The students decided that the only proper way to celebrate the fact that one of their own had managed to best their teacher was to go to the kitchens for a late night snack. After not very much convincing, Professor Lupin was roped into accompanying them, and the excited group began traipsing in the direction of sandwiches and left over pastries. But Tonks, who was being pulled along between Clarence and Terry, managed to sneak occasional glances at the young man, and saw him flattening his hair over his right temple, his eyes distant and troubled. Then she remembered the way he had smiled at her as he twirled her around. Tonks didn't know what was in Remus Lupin's past, and she didn't know if she would ever find out. But she _did_ know that he looked absolutely incredible when he smiled. _If I have anything to say about it_, she thought resolutely, _then he's going to smile a lot more often._

**Thanks so much for the kind and thoughtful reviews! This story has been kicking around my brain for a while now, and I'm really happy to finally put it down on paper :) Glad you guys are enjoying it!**


	12. Chapter 11

Hermione Granger was in heaven. Or was it hell? The past few months of DADA class had been a whirlwhind of learning, and there was absolutely no hope of keeping up with all the books she was trying to read. Not that Professor Lupin ever assigned any reading (which struck her as rather odd), but she wanted to supplement her classwork with library work. Even with the Time Turner, she couldn't fully research every topic that Professor Lupin taught before he moved to the next one. Already they had covered boggarts, veelas, sphinxes, centaurs, vampires, manticores, and banshees. They had learned an array of healing spells, and he had taught them the Patronus Charm to defend themselves from Dementors. He had also given them some basic instruction in wandless magic, which was an incredibly powerful, but immensely difficult and draining form of wizardry. He taught each subject thoroughly, but it really did seem as though he was on a mission to cram as much information into one year as he possibly could. May was right around the corner, and with it came the prospect of final exams. Professor Lupin's evaluation at the end of the previous term had been difficult enough, Hermione didn't even want to think about how hard the final exam was going to be… she needed to find more time to read.

Professor Lupin seemed uncharacteristically uptight today. As Hermione walked to her seat between Harry and Ron, she noticed that the man was fidgeting – drumming his hands against his thighs in an indistinguishable rhythm as he perched on the edge of his desk. His left foot was tapping the ground rapidly, further demonstrating a strangely nervous energy. As soon as the last of the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins took their seats, he leapt to his feet.

"I hope you all had a good weekend," he said, beginning to pace slowly across the front of the classroom. By now, his students recognized this behavior. Harry and Ron exchanged rueful grins, and even Draco cracked a thin smile as they prepared themselves for another impassioned speech. Professor Lupin was nothing if not passionate, and they were beginning to love him for it.

"These past few months, I've taught you about a large number of the Dark Creatures that exist in the world today," he said, his eyes fixed on the floor. "You've learned how to identify them, how to defend yourselves from them, and – I hope – you have all learned to see them as much more than just Creatures to be feared. We have one more Dark Creature to cover before the final exam. Today, we're going to start talking about werewolves."

A small squeak of fear echoed from someone in the back of the room. Professor Lupin looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. His mouth tightened slightly before he continued.

"First off, what do you know already about werewolves? Let's see what we have to work with. Can anybody tell me what a werewolf is, for starters? Neville?"

The dark-haired boy – normally timid and quiet in class – had begun to emerge from his shell over the past year as the Slytherins had slowly stopped tormenting him, following Draco's lead. Now, Neville spoke with quiet confidence.

"A werewolf is someone who transforms into a wolf under the light of a full moon," he said.

"Very good, Neville," Professor Lupin said. "You're quite right. A werewolf is a human with a condition called _lycanthropy_. Once a month, the human transforms into a wolf, both in body and mind. If the individual drinks Wolfsbane potion, they are able to retain their human mind throughout the physical transformation. But otherwise, the wolf mind takes over and runs wild. There is almost nothing in the world more dangerous than a transformed werewolf who hasn't taken Wolfsbane. Can anyone tell me when the next full moon is?"

Hermione raised her hand eagerly. "The next full moon is in four days, on May 3rd!"

"Excellent, Hermione," he said. "It's always a good idea to keep track of the moon cycles, you never know when that knowledge will come in handy. How does a human become infected with lycanthropy?"

Draco raised his hand slowly, and Professor Lupin nodded at him, giving him a small smile.

"They're either bitten by a werewolf, or they're born with it," the blond boy said quietly.

"Very good, Draco. Bites or scratches from a transformed werewolf transmit the disease. Not many werewolves choose – or have the opportunity – to have children, but when they do, approximately half of the time the child inherits the condition. Also, coming into contact with the blood of a werewolf – even when the individual is human – can be infectious as well. That's why I stressed body substance isolation so strongly when we were learning healing spells – you never know what diseases a person might have. You don't want be infected with something like lycanthropy just because you forgot to put on gloves when you healed someone."

"Is it just blood?" Pansy asked. "I mean, if you kissed a werewolf while they were human, would you get it from their saliva?"

A titter of laughter sounded around the room, and the girl blushed self-consciously. Professor Lupin smiled broadly at her question, suddenly looking much more relaxed as he leaned his shoulder against the wall at the front of the classroom and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's actually a very good question, Pansy," he said, eyes twinkling at the blushing girl. "No, you cannot get lycanthropy from someone's saliva. So if you meet a nice boy who also happens to be a werewolf, go right ahead and kiss him – he'll probably be absolutely ecstatic."

He grinned at the laughter this inspired before continuing.

"I'm glad you asked that, because I think most people have a very inaccurate sense of how dangerous werewolves are when it's not full moon. The only way you can get lycanthropy from a non-transformed werewolf is by somehow getting their blood into your own bloodstream."

"What about feral werewolves, sir?" Neville asked. "Don't they bite people when it's not full moon?"

Professor Lupin pushed away from the wall, running a hand through his hair.

"Technically yes, that has happened. But victims of feral attacks never contract lycanthropy unless, again, they are unlucky enough to either ingest some of the werewolf's blood or get it into an open wound."

He paused for a moment, starting to pace again.

"Neville has brought up a very important point. Some of you may not be familiar with the term 'feral werewolf'. A feral is someone who acts like a wolf even when they are physically human. They are also the _only_ kind of werewolf it is worth being afraid of. I'm sure you've all heard stories about people going insane and biting others in broad daylight. Most people believe this happens because the wolf mind is always present, ready to take over the human mind when it is vulnerable. However, this isn't strictly true. Going feral, in reality, has less to do with being a werewolf and a lot more to do with mental illness.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused. Professor Lupin frowned, obviously trying to think of the best way to explain.

"The life of a werewolf is hard," he began. "Very hard. Even _with_ Wolfsbane, transformations are agonizing and exhausting. _Without_ it, the wolf mind rages against any restraints the human might have put on it. People with lycanthropy will use anything – a cage, a magically warded room, even chains – to control the wolf during full moons, and quite often this leaves them badly wounded afterwards. Without any other form of distraction, the wolf will take to biting and clawing itself, and since werewolf bites and scratches cannot be healed with magic, the individual is left in an almost constant state of pain and ill health."

The students were staring at their professor in mute horror, but his eyes were fixed resolutely on the floor as he continued.

"Add that to the endless fear and shame of living in a world where everyone hates you for something you cannot change, and you get a very unhappy individual. Not many people are strong enough to deal with it alone, which is why most werewolves live in very close-knit communities of friends and family members, many of whom also have the disease. The Ministry refers to these communities as _packs_, probably because they like to make werewolves sound as much like animals as they can. But being around other people with lycanthropy makes it easier to bear, especially during the full moon, when the presence of other werewolves calms the wolf mind somewhat."

Professor Lupin took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

"People who turn feral are often individuals who don't have that support, for one reason or another. Some of them may be predisposed to mental illness, some of them simply cannot handle the pain… whatever the reason, they turn to the only thing they have left – the wolf. I can't say I fully understand the mentality of it, but I do know for a fact that a feral is _not_ a wolf mind inside a human body. The wolf mind _only_ surfaces during the full moon. Perhaps ferals think that since the world has decided they are animals, then they may as well embrace it. Perhaps it is a way of coping with the lack of control they have over their own bodies and minds. Some of them truly want to inflict pain on others. Whatever the motivation, ferals make no effort to restrain themselves during the full moon, and are therefore the most common spreaders of the disease. During the War, people like Fenrir Greyback and Alastair Smythe would kidnap children and keep them captive until the full moon, when they would unleash the wolf on them."

The students were far from unfamiliar with the names he had mentioned, or with the horrific things they had done. Professor Lupin continued, his voice almost shaking with intensity.

"There are some truly _horrible_ werewolves out there in the world, people whose minds are so twisted and so damaged that they have no amount of human compassion left. But do you remember what I said when we were talking about vampires? _You take people one at a time_. Do you know how many ferals there are in the world?"

Nobody offered an answer, morbid curiousity hanging in the air.

"Less than a hundred. I know that for a fact, because I helped gather the data. Do you know how many werewolves there are in the world?"

More silence.

"Over _twenty thousand_," he said, letting the number echo around the room for a moment. "Twenty thousand people who are just trying to live peaceful lives while dealing with a terrible curse. Twenty thousand people who chain themselves to walls during the full moon; who would rather _die_ than spread their disease. Does that mean there aren't accidents, awful mistakes? No. But I guarantee that if more werewolves had access to Wolfsbane, the number of accidents would decrease exponentially. I guarantee that if people with lycanthropy were offered support and sympathy instead of hatred and rocks aimed at their heads, there would be a lot fewer ferals, and a lot fewer attacks. Again, if we solve the _root_ of the problem, instead of just trying to burn all the branches, then we might actually make the world a better place for everyone."

There was a long, contemplative silence. Professor Lupin was breathing rather heavily, clearly impassioned. Then, after a long moment, he suddenly smiled self-consciously and ran a hand through his hair sheepishly.

"I apologize, I seem to have wandered off track a bit," he said. "Got a little carried away there. This was supposed to be an _introduction_ to werewolves, not the whole damn textbook. Let's backtrack a little, talk about something practical instead of my usual philosophical rant. Can anyone tell me a way you could defend yourself from a werewolf, if it was attacking you on the full moon?"

Hermione raised her hand tentatively. At his nod, she spoke.

"You can't use magic on them. Don't you have to use weapons made of silver?"

"Yes, but they don't necessarily have to be made of silver. Hermione is quite right, and this is one of the most important points of the lesson – _magic does not work on a transformed werewolf_. You can send as many spells, jinxes, or even Unforgivable curses as you can think of at a werewolf on a full moon, and they will just bounce right off. The _only way_ to defend yourself from an attacking werewolf is through physical violence. Banish something sharp in their direction, hit them with a club, shoot them with a gun… Silver severely burns werewolves, even when it isn't the full moon, so that always helps. The Ministry's Werewolf Capture Unit carries tranquilizer guns that fill a werewolf's bloodstream with traces of silver, which is an extremely effective weapon."

"What about when it's not the full moon?" Seamus Finnegan asked eagerly. "Does magic work on werewolves when they're not transformed?"

Professor Lupin nodded shortly.

"Yes, it does. The only spell that affects werewolves differently when it isn't full moon is the _Cruciatus _curse. Werewolves have incredibly high pain thresholds, so it takes a very powerful _crucio_ to have any effect."

Most of the students winced at that. The idea of shrugging off a _crucio_ was absolutely ludicrous.

"That's not the only difference though, is it?" Harry asked. "Between a human and a werewolf, I mean. Besides the obvious transforming into a wolf every month, how can you tell if someone's a werewolf?"

There was a very long silence. Professor Lupin was looking at Harry with a strangely intense gaze, and the black-haired boy began to get slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Finally, Lupin spoke, every word careful and measured, as though he was putting immense thought into each one.

"There are… _signs_ to look for, that would indicate if someone had lycanthropy. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and I know there may come a time when you all need to know those signs. There may come a time when you need to be able to recognize if someone is a werewolf. But…"

He ran a hand down his face, looking suddenly weary. He propped his lean body against the edge of his desk, looking out at them with wary, golden brown eyes. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and his gaze was distant, as though he was mostly talking to himself.

"I don't think any of you fully comprehend how much of a weapon that knowledge could be. How _easily_ you could ruin, even _end_ someone's life, even if you had nothing but good intentions. There are hundreds, possibly even thousands of werewolves in Britain who live in constant fear of being discovered, of being registered and branded as Dark Creatures. The moment that brand is on their skin, they face endless persecution here. And their only other option is emigrating to places like Bulgaria, where Dark Creatures are hunted down and murdered every day by people who hate them for no reason. Knowing what these werewolves are hiding from, knowing just what awaits them if they are discovered… how can I give _children_ the tools to expose them?"

"We're not _children_!" Harry exclaimed, feeling defensive for some reason he didn't fully understand. "And we're not going to go around pointing out all the werewolves we see! You've spent the past year teaching us to see Dark Creatures as people, do you really think none of that has sunk in?"

His classmates were nodding in agreement, but Professor Lupin looked unconvinced.

"Harry, while I appreciate the sentiment, I am under no illusions that there aren't still people in this room who, if they actually met a werewolf, would run screaming to the nearest Auror. And it is perfectly natural for them to have that reaction, they have been conditioned to it for their entire lives."

"I've been terrified of werewolves ever since I was three, and my brother told me about Fenrir Greyback," Lavender Brown called out boldly from the back of the room. Professor Lupin's eyes swung to meet hers. "A werewolf was my Boggart, and I still have nightmares about it sometimes."

Lupin's eyes dimmed slightly, but Lavender wasn't finished.

"But I think… I think I'm scared of werewolves mostly because they've always just been some sort of ghost story to me. Scary things that my brother told me to keep me up at night. I don't know how I would react if I actually met one in real life. But maybe, if they were a normal person like you say they are… maybe I wouldn't be so scared of them anymore."

Professor Lupin stared at her for so long that she blushed and ducked her head. The room was absolutely silent as the students watched their teacher having what looked to be a fairly intense internal debate. Finally, at long last, Professor Lupin stood and walked behind his desk, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the chalkboard that he never used. He took a deep breath, hesitated, then spoke rapidly in a quiet, strangely monotone voice.

"A werewolf will always have scars. Scratches, bites, marks from chains and other restraints. Werewolves have heightened senses of smell, taste, sight, and hearing. These become especially strong right before the full moon. Werewolves are physically stronger than humans, and heal much faster. They often feel quite ill in the days leading up to a full moon, and this, combined with a heightened metabolism, can cause some werewolves to have dramatic shifts in weight throughout the month. Some werewolves experience other changes throughout the month, such as increased libido, or changing eye color."

Professor Lupin came to an abrupt stop, his ramble of facts complete. The classroom was eerily silent. His eyes were fixed on the top of his desk, his shoulders hunched tensely. He looked like he was expecting a harsh blow at any moment, and when the bell suddenly rang he flinched violently.

Nobody made a move to pack up and leave. Nobody breathed. They simply stared at him, waiting for him to look up at them. But he never did. He wiped a shaking hand across his mouth, and simply said, "I would appreciate it if you all kept this information to yourselves. Not everyone is as open-minded as I hope you all are."

Still purposefully avoiding their eyes, he walked briskly to the door and left, leaving them in stunned silence.

**To give credit where credit is definitely due, much of the inspiration for this scene was taken from Jess Pallas's wonderful fic _Oblivious. _Thanks so much for all the reviews! :)**


	13. Chapter 12

May 2, 1994 dawned to find Nymphadora Tonks, 18-year old Metamorphmagus extraordinaire, sitting in her bed with her arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide and red from a night of no sleep and too many tears. The Auror Training Program would send out acceptance and rejection letters this very morning. Tonks had written a compelling application, Professor Lupin had given her a glowing recommendation, and she had truly aced the practical exam four days prior. She should have been in raptures of anticipatory joy. But instead she felt as though her world had come to an end.

The past month and a half had been incredible. Her victory over Professor Lupin in the Room of Requirement had heralded a breakthrough not only for herself, but for her fellow students. Months of practice finally began to pay off as their skills solidified, and their motions and decisions became confident and deliberate. Tonks knew that she had another three years of training left before she was a qualified Auror, but part of her already felt prepared to face anything the world could throw at her. It wasn't very long before she was not the only one who occasionally managed to beat Professor Lupin in a sparring match. The man was clearly thrilled by this, and as their skills increased, he began to seem much less intimidating, and much more open.

Only last week, Tonks had bested him yet again, using another weapon from her childhood arsenal. They had been dueling, and he had surprised her by boldly grabbing her wand hand and pulling her to the floor, pinning her down. Unable to shift his weight, inspiration suddenly struck. Wriggling her other hand free, she tickled his side and armpit mercilessly, and he twisted away from her, laughing uncontrollably. She wasn't sure if it was from the tickling itself, or the fact that she had so brazenly utilized it as a weapon, but whatever the cause, she took full advantage of the effect and found herself practically straddling a still laughing Remus Lupin, pinning his arms to the ground and holding her wand to his throat.

She knew this was not a victory she would have obtained had they really been fighting, but she found herself unable to care as she looked into his twinkling eyes, once again very close to her own. He was grinning up at her, and she could feel his body still quaking with laughter.

"Very sneaky, _Nymphadora_."

She kneed him in the ribs.

"It's not very wise to annoy someone who's pointing a wand at your throat, _Remus_."

Her boldness shocked her, but his grin only widened.

"Ah, but are you?"

Before she could even blink, he had broken her grip on his hands, snatched her wand, and flipped them both over so he was once again pinning her to the ground. Her mouth fell open in shock.

"Never underestimate a cornered enemy, 'Dora," he said. He had clearly been trying to make a point, but his expression dissolved into embarrassment when he realized what he had called her. Her heart melted a little bit, both from the nickname and from his increasingly flustered look when he realized just how compromising a position they were in, and how many other people were still in the room.

He catapulted to his feet, and she immediately missed the warmth of his body against hers. A furious blush threatening at his cheeks, he reached down to help her up. In his flustered state he seemed to forget his own strength, and pulled her to her feet so quickly that she lurched forward into his chest. She looked up to meet his embarrassed eyes, and for the hundredth time Tonks found herself wondering just how old he was. With his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and slightly stunned expression, he barely looked any older than she was.

"I kinda like 'Dora', actually," she murmured to him, with no memory of telling her mouth to say anything. Her hand was still encased in his warm, calloused palm, and for one truly insane moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

But he stepped away and the spell was broken, Tonks suddenly remembering that they were actually in a room full of her classmates. Looking around surreptitiously, she was relieved to see that most of her friends had been too wrapped up in their own duels to notice her blatantly flirting with their professor. Terry and Clarence, on the other hand, wore matching Cheshire cat grins as they caught her eye from across the room. Terry wagged his eyebrows up and down suggestively at her, and it was her turn to blush.

It had been wonderful and terrifying, confusing and electrifying all at the same time.

And then yesterday, everything had changed.

If only Terry hadn't asked that _stupid _question. Why was it even important to know how to spot someone with lycanthropy? If they were only dangerous on full moons, why did it _matter_? And why had Professor Lupin agreed that they needed to know, why had he told them the signs?

The logical part of Tonks's brain knew that what had happened was necessary. She would need to know the signs of lycanthropy as an Auror, or else she could put herself and others in danger. But knowing _why_ she needed it didn't make the truth any easier to bear.

Professor Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

He was a werewolf, and she really _should_ have already known. The signs, now that he had spelled them out so clearly, were obvious. He was raised by a British family in _Bulgaria_ for Merlin's sake; that in itself should have been a big enough clue. And yet here she was, still awake at five in the morning, barely even able to remember that today she would find out if her childhood dream of being an Auror was going to come true.

What had stolen her sleep was not the fact that Professor Lupin was a werewolf. It was not even the fact that she had – against her will – developed an incredibly large _crush_ on a werewolf. No. What had kept her tossing and turning and torturing herself the whole night was _shame_. Shame, and self-loathing.

He had told them the signs at the very end of class, probably so that he could escape from what was bound to be an incredibly awkward moment. The bell rang, but nobody moved. Tonks was so shocked that she found herself unable to even look at Professor Lupin. Her mind was in shambles, she couldn't form a coherent thought, and her gaze was fixed unseeing on the floor. But every other sense in her body was honed in on him, and she could feel him looking at her. She could feel his fear, his uncertainty, his intense desire to know what she was thinking. And she could hear him take a step towards her desk, the eyes of twenty other students following him.

"Dora…"

Remembering the tone of his voice now, hours later, brought fresh tears to her eyes. He had sounded so young, so heartbreakingly_ vulnerable_. It was as though she had held his heart in her hands… and then thrown it on the floor and stomped on it.

She ran. She leapt to her feet and _ran out the door_, leaving him standing, shattered, in front of a room full of her classmates. Hours later and she still didn't know why. Perhaps it was the shock of finding out in such a straightforward, clinical manner. Perhaps it was the way her mother's lips curled in disgust every time she mentioned the word _werewolf_. Maybe she was more like her Aunt Bellatrix than she had thought. Maybe she was a bigoted, racist _bitch_.

And so she had cried all night long, and questioned everything she had ever known about herself. And she waited for the morning to come.

* * *

Concealing the bags under her eyes and the redness that came from nearly eight straight hours of crying took quite a feat of morphing. If she hadn't been so miserable, Tonks might have congratulated herself on how normal she looked. She just couldn't manage a bright hair color though, and went down to breakfast wearing her subdued, natural brown locks.

She had avoided her friends, not wanting to answer their questions about why she had bolted, why she had treated Professor Lupin like that. Seeing Clarence in the entrance hall, she quickly averted her gaze and turned to make for the Great Hall, eyes on the floor. But she let out a small sound of dismay when she ran into something solid.

Heart filled with trepidation, she raised her gaze to find that the something was, in fact, Remus Lupin, who had also been heading for the Great Hall.

He looked awful. A distant part of Tonks's brain registered that he _would_ look awful, the full moon was _tomorrow_. But she had never seen him looking this unhealthy, this stressed, this _miserable_. His face was lined with exhaustion, covered in a thicker layer of blond stubble than was usual. He was almost painfully skinny, his shoulders hunched as though he was doing his best to disappear entirely. He looked positively ill, and if the bags under his eyes were any indication, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night either.

She raised her eyes to his, dreading the condemnation she would find there. But what she saw was even worse.

He was _ashamed_. She didn't see an ounce of anger in his eyes, not an ounce of betrayed confidence. He didn't blame her _one bit_. His eyes were resigned and hopeless. Her reaction was the one he had been _expecting_. And that realization made Tonks sick to her stomach.

She opened her mouth. What she planned on saying, she didn't know, but she prayed to Merlin that it would be something, _anything_ that would take that look off his face and keep it off forever. She never wanted to see that look from anyone ever again.

But whatever words she was going to use, he didn't give her a chance to say them. He was stepping back from her, head ducking down in a subordinate motion that just looked _wrong_ coming from him.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tonks," he said in a dull voice. "I'm so sorry."

And then he was gone, walking into the Great Hall, leaving her standing there with her mouth still open. She didn't move. She was frozen in place, staring at where he had been only moments before. How had she fucked things up _so badly_?

Professor Snape brushed by her on his way to breakfast. He caught her eye and sneered.

"I thought you were just the class clown," he said nastily. "Little did I know you could be so _malicious_."

He swept away, leaving her gasping for air. He was right, he was so right. But since when did Snape care about anyone, let alone Professor Lupin? And how had it come to this – the most unpleasant professor Hogwarts had ever seen, defending a werewolf's feelings from _her_?

Numb and still unable to form coherent thoughts, Tonks walked on unsteady legs into the Great Hall. She collapsed at the Hufflepuff table next to Terry, feeling like a steaming pile of dragon dung. Terry, to his credit, took one look at her face and refrained from saying anything to her. She stabbed at a hard boiled egg half-heartedly, feeling nauseous. Stealing a glance up at the staff table, she could see Professor Lupin slumped in his chair, also looking entirely unenthused by the idea of food. His eyes flickered frequently to the door, and Tonks continued to watch him, wondering why he looked so uncomfortable.

Then she looked around at the other students in the Great Hall, and suddenly understood. The seventh years weren't the only ones he was teaching about werewolves. They weren't the only ones he would have told. As Tonks looked around at her fellow students, she saw several other people casting surreptitious glances at the disheveled man slumped at the staff table. She could see Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Pansy huddled at one end of the Gryffindor table, whispering furiously and shooting concerned glances at Professor Lupin. Tonks felt a painful stab of guilt. _They_ probably hadn't run out of the room when they found out, and they were _thirteen_. What was _wrong _with her?

She looked back at Professor Lupin, who was now staring at the door resolutely, his jaw clenched and his entire body tense, as though he was steeling himself for a fight. Then she understood. He was sure that someone was going to turn him in. He was expecting the Werewolf Capture Unit to come crashing into the Great Hall at any moment and haul him away to Azkaban for the rest of his life. And suddenly, Nymphadora Tonks just couldn't take it anymore. She was going to march up there and put her arms around him and tell him she was sorry, she was _so sorry_, and she would fight _anyone_ who tried to hurt him…

Her muscles were tensed to stand up when a large Ministry owl landed on her hard boiled egg with a squelching sound. She yelped in surprise, and took the letter from its beak, starting to rip it open without even thinking about what it could be. Her mind was still on Professor Lupin, and how she was going to make him smile again – _oh_.

_Miss Nymphadora Tonks,_

_It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into the Auror Training Program of Great Britain. Classes commence at 0800 on 1 July, 1994, at the Auror Department in the Ministry of Magic. Please find enclosed a list of required books and supplies._

_Congratulations. I look forward to working with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Alastor Moody, Director of Auror Training_

She raised bewildered eyes to the only person in the room she wanted to share this moment with. Professor Lupin – taking a break from staring at the door like it was the gates of hell – was looking at her intensely. He obviously knew where the letter was from. But when she met his eyes, he immediately averted his gaze, as though ashamed that she had caught him looking at her.

She heard Clarence squealing in excitement as she opened her own letter, and then Terry, but Tonks was already up and moving. Her legs carried her slowly at first, but they gathered speed as she approached the staff table, her eyes fixed on the man who had given her so much, and asked for nothing in return. He finally noticed her coming towards him, and his eyes widened slightly, a look of guarded fear crossing his face as he slowly stood.

"Tonks, what… did you get in?"

She didn't answer. She felt tears filling her eyes again as she tripped up the stairs to the raised dais. And then she threw her arms around him, ignoring the violent flinch he gave at her sudden movements. He stood stiffly, his arms held out to the sides in complete and utter shock.

"_I'm sorry_," she sobbed brokenly into his neck. "_I'm so bloody sorry!_"

The Great Hall had gone very silent at her sudden and bizarre outburst. But she was beyond caring about anything other than the fact that after an agonizingly long moment, Professor Lupin's arms tentatively wrapped around her back. And when it became clear that she really meant it, that this wasn't some cruel joke, that she really _wanted _to be in his arms… she felt the tension in his body suddenly release, and he was curling around her, pulling her tightly against him as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. For a single, glorious instant, Tonks felt stubble and warm skin pressed against the side of her neck, and her knees went weak when she felt him breathe her in like she was air itself.

For a moment, the occupants of the Great Hall simply stared at the young woman clinging to the man who many of them now knew was a werewolf. And then an appreciative whistle echoed throughout the hall, and the tension was broken by laughter. Disorganized applause and cheering erupted from Professor Lupin's students. Someone who sounded quite a lot like Stanley Shunpike was leading a chorus of _three cheers for Lupin!_, and somewhere in the back of the room some cheeky bugger called out "GET IT, PROFESSOR!" at the top of his lungs. Despite herself, Tonks let out a small burst of laughter.

The young man pulled away slightly, reluctantly removing his head from the crook of her neck. His golden brown eyes shone with restrained tears. He was staring at her in wonder, a small, disbelieving smile starting to spread across his face.

"I don't _care_," she said resolutely, still hiccupping with emotion, but needing to explain, needing to make him see that he shouldn't be afraid. "I really don't. I'm sorry I ran, I was just so _surprised_, and I didn't know what to do with myself. But I'm not scared of you. You're… you're _Remus Lupin_, and that's all there is to it."

She watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly, looking completely at a loss for words. That was fine, because she had plenty.

"And by the way, I think you can probably tell by now that everyone else feels the same way I do."

His eyes flickered to the Great Hall behind her, where his students were still laughing and cheering.

"I didn't tell all of them," he said hoarsely, looking back at her. "Only the ones who seemed… _ready_. So I bet half of the people in this room are pretty confused right now…"

She snorted. As the Great Hall slowly began to quiet down again, she reluctantly extricated herself from Professor Lupin's arms.

"Talk to you later?" she asked, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious as she realized that the entire staff table was staring at them. Snape looked strangely satisfied, Professor McGonagall looked scandalized, and Dumbledore looked absolutely delighted by the whole affair, smiling broadly at her from underneath his beard.

She turned to leave, but paused when she felt Professor Lupin's hand on her wrist.

"Dora…" he said, looking at her with eyes that shone with gratitude. "_Thank you_."

She gave him a broken smile.

"You have nothing to thank me for. You're a good man, Professor Lupin. Never let anything, or anyone, tell you differently."

So much for not having a crush on her professor. She wasn't even sure what to call the feeling she had right now, as they stared at each other. It felt like a lot more than a crush. And he wasn't going to be her professor for much longer… With that happy thought, she turned – and promptly tripped over her own robes and fell down the stairs. More laughter resounded throughout the hall, and she couldn't help but join in as a suddenly chuckling Professor Lupin hurried to help her up. It was nice to know that despite the revelations of the past day, and the past few minutes, some things never changed.

**Thank you all so, so much for the reviews! You're the best :)**


	14. Chapter 13

_Fabian Prewett wasn't a man who scared easily, so he knew the situation was dire when he felt his heart rising to his throat. This was supposed to be a routine mission, but now he and Gideon were surrounded by six Death Eaters, and he suddenly knew: there was a spy in the Order. The red-haired twins had done everything right, had remained Disillusioned the entire time… there was no other explanation. As Fabian desperately fended off three black-cloaked figures, his back against his brother's as the two men fought like heroes, he realized with grim horror that they would not live to warn the others. _

_ His blood froze when he heard Gideon cry out in pain, and felt him slump to his knees. Fabian's eyes filled with tears of helpless rage as he breathed what he was sure would be his last breath._

_ And then the alleyway _exploded_ with light. Fabian cried out, trying to cover his eyes. Echoing yells from the Death Eaters around him indicated that they, too, had been blinded. Fabian fell to his knees beside his brother, groping blindly for him. Whatever the light was, it was giving them a miraculous chance to escape…_

_ The thud of bodies hitting the ground brought Fabian's attention back up, and his still not quite functioning eyes managed to make out a small, blurry form stunning the remaining Death Eaters as they struggled to regain their sight. He watched, flabbergasted, as the small figure turned and began walking towards the fallen twins, his features becoming clearer as Fabian's eyesight returned._

_ Their savior was a child. A small boy, maybe eight or nine years old. He was painfully skinny, clad in tattered trousers held aloft with a piece of string through the belt loops, and an oversized t-shirt that was so dirty and stained that the original color was indistinguishable. He had a long, wild mop of brown hair that hung over his face, hiding his eyes and giving him a distinctly feral appearance. Fabian gaped as the boy crouched several feet away from them, sitting back on his heels and wrapping grubby, scarred arms around his knees as he eyed them both through his brown fringe. Fabian caught a glimpse of glittering amber eyes, and shivered. Instead of the innocence and trust that should be in the eyes of a child, here there was only death._

_ The boy jerked his head at Gideon, who had been hit with a cutting curse and a stunner simultaneously. Fabian had tried to perform a blood-clotting spell on the wound, but healing had never been one of his fortes and now he was desperately pressing his cloak into his brother's abdomen, trying to slow the bleeding. The boy looked back up at Fabian, a question in his eyes. Seemingly satisfied with whatever answer he got from Fabian's expression, he crept closer to the unconscious man, and Fabian tightened his hold on his brother. But the boy stretched a small, dirty hand over the wound, and a strange blue glow emanated from his palm, bathing Gideon's chest in light for several seconds._

_ "What are you – " Fabian started to ask, but stopped abruptly when he felt the flow of blood from the wound suddenly cease. Shocked, he pulled Gideon's shirt up. The wound was completely healed. He turned wide eyes to the boy, who had retreated to his former position. _

_ "You – you… you can do wandless magic!"_

_ Out of all of the things he could have said to this child, that was the only thing that came out. The boy had saved them from almost certain death, he had healed Gideon, and he looked like he belonged in the arms of his mother, not crouching in some back alley of London, surrounded by pain and destruction. But these thoughts were too much for Fabian's exhausted brain right now, and as he watched the boy cock his head quizzically, he realized that his idiotic words had not been understood._

_ "You don't speak English, do you?"_

_ The boy shook his head, indicating that he was at least familiar enough with the language to recognize a few words. Fabian was just about to launch into his French when a distant crash from the alley entrance brought both of their heads whipping round. They had lingered for too long._

_ "Come with us!" Fabian whispered fiercely at the boy, grabbing his skeletal wrist and preparing to Apparate. But the boy wrenched free, shaking his head. He scrambled to his feet and held his hands to either side of Fabian's temples, his face set in concentration. And suddenly, Fabian could see a detailed image of a pudgy, round-faced man kneeling before the Dark Lord, swearing fealty. The man looked up, and Fabian nearly cried out when he saw his face. Peter. Peter Pettigrew._

_ Fabian was too upset to notice as the boy waved his hands in a memory spell. Everything that had occurred after the blinding light was erased from his mind, bar the single image of Peter. And then the twins were suddenly, inexplicably, in a field near Hogsmeade, the calm night wind caressing their sweat-soaked red hair._

_ As Fabian and Gideon Prewett returned to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, alive and well, unsure how they had survived but armed with the identity of a traitorous spy, a small boy modified the memories of six Death Eaters. His job done, he spared a moment to look up at the night sky, visible between the tall buildings of London. The moon was almost full. He turned on the spot and vanished._


	15. Chapter 14

The night after the full moon, the Three Broomsticks was packed to the brim with Hogsmeade locals, almost the entire seventh year class of Hogwarts, and one very bemused werewolf professor. Remus Lupin had entered the Room of Requirement that evening looking distinctly rumpled, still recovering from his monthly transformation. He had clearly not been expecting anyone else to be there, as all his trainees had gotten their letters of acceptance along with Tonks and therefore had no pressing reason to practice Defense every night. So it was with a mild look of astonishment that he entered the room to find all fifteen of his trainees waiting for him.

Tonks knew she could not be the only one who found him disarmingly adorable in that moment, his eyes still slightly bleary from sleep and his hair sticking straight up on the side of his head where it had obviously been pressed against a pillow. She grinned at him.

"Wotcher, professor," she said, and his confused eyes flew to meet hers. "Care to join us all for a pint in Hogsmeade? I believe we owe you one after all you did to help us get jobs."

Professor Lupin stared at her blankly for a second, as though he couldn't comprehend the question. Then he slowly looked around at her fellow students, who were grinning eagerly at him.

"You… you all want to go to a pub. With me."

He sounded completely dumbfounded, and Tonks could guess what was going through his mind. He had all but told half the student body that he was a werewolf, and not only had they refrained from turning him in to the Ministry, they were now actively seeking out his company.

"Yep," Terry said matter-of-factly. Professor Lupin shook his head slightly and blinked, as though trying to wake himself from what must be a bizarre dream. But when he looked up they were still there, and he let out a small, disbelieving laugh.

"It – it's not exactly _appropriate_ for me to drink with students. Dumbledore might have something to say about it," he said, reaching up and attempting to flatten his hair into a semi-presentable state.

"We thought you'd say that," said Clarence quickly. "So maybe this time, we can stick to butterbeers, and then we can take you out again after graduation?"

Professor Lupin lowered his hands, his hair incorrigible. His hazel eyes took in the image of fifteen teenagers looking at him with full knowledge of what he was, with no hatred or fear. He swallowed thickly, and nodded.

"Okay," he said, his eyes wide and bright with restrained emotion. "Yeah, that sounds good."

It turned out they were not the only ones who had deemed it a good night to go to Hogsmeade. It was Friday, the first hint of summer was in the air, and the end of term was in sight, so almost all the seventh years were enjoying themselves at various pubs along the main street in the wizarding village. But it only took one person catching a glimpse of Professor Lupin in the Three Broomsticks to spread the word like wildfire, and they hadn't been in the pub for five minutes before almost thirty other teenagers joined them, packing the place to the rafters and sending Madam Rosmerta into raptures of busy joy.

The Weird Sisters was blaring in the background, and loud, happy teenagers and locals occupied all the stools, surfaces, and standing room in the pub. Lupin looked rather overwhelmed by the whole thing, and had managed to wedge himself into a corner booth where he could see the whole room, sipping a butterbeer slowly as he observed the mayhem. Tonks, Terry, Clarence, Stanley Shunpike, and Dennis Arthur had joined him, and Tonks suddenly remembered that Lupin's hearing might still be quite sensitive after the full moon. That would explain his rather shell shocked appearance.

"Are you alright?" she asked, turning her head to look at him. He was sitting right next to her, his back against the wall and his body angled towards her, with his right arm resting on the back of the bench. She was close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating down her entire left side. "We can go somewhere else if you like, if all this noise is hurting your ears."

He looked at her in surprise, clearly unused to someone casually mentioning anything to do with his condition.

"N-no, it's fine. It just… always takes me awhile. To readjust."

He gestured vaguely to his ears, looking mildly uncomfortable as they all nodded. Dennis – who had just gotten a job at the Daily Prophet, and in true Ravenclaw fashion was incredibly inquisitive – cleared his throat and shifted uncertainly in his seat.

"I have to say, Professor – it took an awful lot of nerve for you to tell us," he said, giving the older man a steady look that was full of respect. "I mean… none of us are going to say anything. I'd rather face a full-grown troll all by myself than give you up to the Ministry. I'm pretty sure everyone who knows about you now feels the same way. But… you're still taking quite a gamble on us, Professor Lupin."

The young werewolf looked down into his butterbeer, frowning slightly.

"I know that, Dennis," he said, so softly that they had to strain to hear him over the ruckus. "Merlin help me, I knew the risk I was taking from the moment Albus offered me the job."

He looked back up at them, setting his glass down on the table and continuing in a louder, more confident tone.

"But I also knew that this was an opportunity – perhaps the _only_ opportunity – to show you all that we're… we're not what the Ministry makes us out to be. Dark Creatures, I mean. We have desires and dreams, morals and emotions – the same as anyone else. We're _people_. And you – all of you, the kids at Hogwarts – _you _are the future. What you think _matters_, what you _do_ and what you _say_ matters. You have the ability to make things better, to make _my life_ and the lives of so many others _better_. You have the power to change the world. And if the price of making even a _few_ of you question your own prejudices is a brand on my chest… well, it's bloody worth it."

Looking suddenly embarrassed to have said so much, he hid behind his butterbeer, draining it. He looked back up at them, his blush deepening as he saw them staring at him in awe.

"I swear I don't do that all the time," he said, his mouth pulling up in a self-conscious smile. "You might not believe me, but I don't normally go on long, drawn out rants about deep, serious shit. I'd like to think I'm usually more fun to take to the pub."

The teenagers laughed, breaking the awestruck silence.

"Speaking of which," Terry said, standing up. "You want another drink, Professor? Anybody?"

He was answered with a chorus of nods, and his friends tossed him a few Sickles. Professor Lupin offered him a handful of Knuts, but the young man shook his head, grinning.

"You're not gonna be paying for drinks for a while, mate."

He disappeared into the crowd, and Professor Lupin shrugged and returned the Knuts to his jacket pocket. Nobody questioned him about carrying his own weight in copper coins. As he lay his hand back down on the table, they could see evidence of past encounters with silver Sickles written into the scar tissue on his fingertips.

"I never got the chance to congratulate you all on your new jobs," he said, looking around at them with a smile. "Are you excited?"

The ecstatic grins he received were answer enough. Tonks was practically bouncing in her seat. But Stanley looked suddenly unhappy. He had applied to work for the Department of Magical Creatures, and had been accepted along with everyone else. Noticing his student's discomfort, Lupin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"Stan? You okay?"

The large boy raised miserable eyes to his teacher, who was looking at him in concern.

"Professor Lupin, I…" he trailed off, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor.

"What's wrong?" Clarence asked, resting a hand on his arm. Stan stole one last, bafflingly guilty look at Professor Lupin, and then fixed his eyes on the table.

"They… they assigned me to the Werewolf Capture Unit," he mumbled, shame turning his pale face bright red. There was a short, tense silence. But it was quickly broken by Professor Lupin, who reached across the table and grabbed Stan's wrist gently.

"Hey," he said, calling the boy's attention back up from the table. "Look at me, Stan."

Miserable blue eyes met his, and he smiled broadly at his student.

"That isn't a _bad thing_, mate," he said, looking intently at the young man in front of him. "In fact, I think that's a step in the right direction."

At Stan's confused stare, he continued, voice low and passionate.

"The Werewolf Capture Unit is a bunch of bigoted, violent _bastards_. Do you have any idea how happy it makes me to know that, starting next year, at least _one_ of them will be a good person? That at least _one_ of them will think before he shoots, will do his best to differentiate between the innocent and the guilty?"

Stan was staring at Lupin with shining eyes, looking ten times better than he had only seconds before.

"It's not gonna be easy for you, Stan," Lupin continued, still gripping the boy's wrist. "There are going to be a lot of very prejudiced, outspoken people around you, and you're going to see some of the worst that my kind has to offer. And you're going to see some of the worst that humans have to offer as well. You're going to be exposed to some truly horrible things. But you're _strong enough_. You're strong enough and you're smart enough to stay true to yourself, to make a difference."

Professor Lupin sat back, releasing a much happier-looking Stanley Shunpike. There was a long, contemplative silence. The young werewolf returned to his corner, yet again looking slightly self-conscious for having said so much.

Tonks finally broke the thoughtful silence with a snort.

"I think Terry took a sidetrip to Pluto on his way to get drinks. I'd better go help him carry them over."

As she stood up, she heard Professor Lupin call out behind her, "Are you sure you're the best person for that job?"

Looking back, she made a rude gesture at him.

"Cheeky," she said, grinning. As she disappeared into the crowd, she heard laughter behind her, and her smile widened as she made out Lupin's wry chuckle.

She finally found Terry at the bar, still trying to catch Rosmerta's attention amongst the throng of people waiting for drinks. She poked him in the side, startling him.

"Let the master show you how it's done," she said, winking at him. Scrunching up her nose, she turned her hair neon red and yelled at the top of her lungs, "_OY, ROSMERTA!_"

A minute later, they had six freshly poured butterbeers before them. They were just about to carry them back to the corner booth when a sudden hush from the doorway caught their attention. Turning around, they saw what – or rather, _who_ – had brought silence to a quarter of the room's occupants.

A very strange-looking man was standing in the doorway. Tall and broad, he had a bit of a gut on him, and his hair was long, gray, and unkempt. His face looked like it had been carved out of wood by a drunk sculptor – scars that rivaled Lupin's criss-crossed his features, and an entire chunk of his nose was missing. What appeared to be a wooden leg peeked out from underneath jet black robes that bore a sickeningly familiar symbol. But the most alarming aspect of his appearance were his eyes. His left eye was normal, dark and alert, full of sharp intelligence. But his right eye was a vivid, electric blue orb that seemed to have a mind of its own, rotating wildly around the room and occasionally fixating on objects, people, or solid walls with an intensity that made Tonks wonder just what that eye was seeing.

The man stumped forward a bit, and the rest of the room quieted as they caught a glimpse of the Auror symbol emblazoned on his robes. Most of the Hogsmeade locals had left, leaving the Three Broomsticks almost entirely filled with Hogwarts students, and the tension in the room was palpable, especially when the man began to speak.

"I'm looking for Remus Lupin."

Tonks felt her stomach drop sickeningly. No. No, it couldn't be. Nobody would turn him in. Would they?

The man was still speaking.

"I was told he would be here. Anybody know where he is?"

"Who wants to know?"

It took Tonks a moment to realize that the fierce voice asking the aggressive question was her own. Looking vastly more confident than she felt, she placed herself right in the man's path, blocking his view of the corner booth. The feeling of Terry stepping up behind her gave her courage as she stared this terrifying human down, willing him to go away. But the man just looked at her in confusion, his other eye casing the room and taking in the forty or so teenagers who were looking at him coldly.

"It's alright, Tonks."

A weary, soft voice echoed from behind her, and Tonks closed her eyes in helpless defeat. Why was he giving himself up so calmly? Why hadn't he used the delay to run?

But she felt a large, warm hand gently guide her aside as Remus Lupin came to stand directly in front of the Auror, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his worn jeans as he observed the man with a painfully guarded expression. He looked wary, but not entirely resigned to his fate, and as Tonks watched his eyes flicker to the door and back to the single man before him, she suddenly realized that if this Auror were truly here to arrest Professor Lupin, he wouldn't have come alone.

The wild-looking man was staring at Lupin in disbelief, both eyes now fixed on him.

"_You're_ Remus Lupin?"

His tone was dumbfounded. Professor Lupin shifted uncertainly on his feet.

"Yes…" he said, questioningly. The Auror continued to stare at him, and Lupin's eyes flickered briefly to Tonks's, showing her the depth of his confusion and discomfort. Finally, the Auror shook his head and made a strange wheezing sound that might have been a laugh.

"Sorry lad, it's just that… well, from James and Sirius's stories, I honestly didn't expect you to be so… _young_."

Slowly, incrementally, an incredulous smile began to form on Professor Lupin's face. His eyes narrowed at the man in front of him.

"Are you – are you… Mad-Eye?"

The man grunted, obviously not keen on his nickname.

"Aye, that's what those buggers call me. The name's _Alastor_. Alastor Moody. I looked for you up at the castle, but Dumbledore said I'd find you here. I wanted to congratulate you on the crop of Auror cadets you seem to have plucked out of thin air. I take it these attack dogs of yours are some of them?"

Professor Lupin was now grinning unabashedly, clearly almost giddy with relief as he ran both hands through his mop of hair. The tension in the room vanished, and his students finally stopped shooting death glares at the intruder, now that they were sure he was not there to drag their favorite professor off to Azkaban. Tonks – remembering Alastor Moody's name from her letter of acceptance – felt a surge of embarrassment. This was the man who, in a few short months, would be training her as an Auror. Shit. She _really _needed to work on her first impressions.

A minute later, the five teenagers found themselves back in the corner booth, sitting beside their current professor and the strange-looking Auror. Moody (or Mad-Eye, which seemed an appropriate nickname) took occasional swigs from a copper hip flask, and raised an eyebrow as Lupin took a sip of butterbeer.

"Don't tell me you're not even old enough to have a real drink!" he barked, and beckoned to Rosmerta, ignoring Lupin's protests that butterbeer suited him just fine. Rosmerta, who clearly knew Moody, bustled over with a harried smile.

"A brandy for me, lass," he said. "And a Firewhiskey for the kid. That is, if you are actually of age?"

He turned to Professor Lupin, only half jesting. The teenagers snorted into their butterbeers, but Tonks had to admit that, at that moment, Moody had a valid point. For some reason, Lupin always looked vastly younger right after the full moon, his eyes brighter and his face unlined and full of energy. Add to that a shirt that was even more rumpled than usual and a severe case of bed hair, and he really didn't look any older than his students.

Professor Lupin flushed, looking mildly annoyed by Moody's question and the teenager's amused response to it.

"I'm of age, Moody," he grumbled. But Rosmerta was looking at him with skeptical eyes. She had clearly never seen him before, and had no way of knowing that he was a Hogwarts professor. The Three Broomsticks had had trouble in the past with underage drinking, and now she was a stickler for true age spells on anyone she didn't know.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said tentatively, "but could I possibly check? Sometimes children do all sorts of things to make themselves look older, and I just can't risk serving someone who isn't of age."

Lupin went, if possible, even redder. The teenagers were now practically in fits of laughter, and even Moody looked mildly amused by the situation he had accidentally gotten the young man into.

"I don't need a drink…" Lupin protested quietly, looking extremely uncomfortable. But Rosmerta was already flourishing her wand at him. A puff of blue smoke burst from the end of it, twisting around Lupin's head and then forming itself into a number that hovered over the table for a second before dissipating.

_22_

The teenagers stopped laughing quite abruptly. They gaped at their professor, eyes wide with shock. They had known that Professor Lupin couldn't be much older than his mid-twenties, but _twenty-two_?

As Rosmerta bustled away, the young man shifted awkwardly in his seat, fiddling with his butterbeer glass as he avoided eye contact with his flabbergasted companions. Moody was also staring at Lupin, but his normal eye was filled, not with surprise, but with a sudden, sad understanding.

"I'm sorry, lad," he said quietly. It sounded like he was apologizing for a lot more than accidentally exposing Lupin's youth to his students. The werewolf's eyes flickered up to Moody's, giving him an unreadable look, before quickly returning to his glass. Tonks suddenly remembered what her cousin had said over Christmas break – James and Sirius had met Lupin in Eastern Europe right after the destruction of Kamena, more than five years ago. He would have been seventeen. Younger than she was now, and in the middle of a war zone.

"Why did you come all the way from London to talk to me, Moody? Surely it wasn't just to figure out how old I am."

Moody gave an almost imperceptible wince at the mild bitterness in Lupin's voice.

"I'm actually here to offer you a job," he said, handing Rosmerta a few coins when she returned with their drinks. Lupin brought confused eyes up to meet Moody's gaze as the older man thrust a large tumbler of firewhiskey at him.

"I already have a job," Lupin said, grasping the tumbler absentmindedly.

"I know that," Moody said, taking a large swig of his brandy. "This would be more of a part-time thing. We were all pretty impressed with this lot," he jerked his head towards the teenagers who sat quietly beside them, "and when we found out who's been teaching them all year… well, we want you to come teach a few classes for the Auror Training Program."

Lupin stared at him blankly. But Tonks's heart leapt. She had been half dreading graduation, knowing that she would be seeing far less of Professor Lupin after she left Hogwarts.

"That's brilliant, Professor!" she exclaimed. "We'll still get to see you!"

But Lupin seemed far less enamored with the concept.

"I – I don't know if that's such a good idea," he said, looking nervous. He took a large gulp of the amber liquid in his glass, then coughed as some of it went down the wrong pipe. Moody looked at him in equal parts confusion and concern.

"You alright, kid?"

Lupin nodded, his eyes watering. He took another, smaller sip of whiskey, then spoke again.

"I appreciate the offer, Alastor, I really do. But I'm just not in a position to do that right now."

"Why not?" Moody asked gruffly. "You're the best DADA teacher Hogwarts has seen in years, and I think you could really do a lot for the Auror cadets. Merlin knows, they need the help!"

A loud snort and a grim smile told them all just how highly Moody thought of his trainees.

"Seems like they're all either completely useless, or they've already bought into Umbridge's bigoted, dictatorial idea of how the Ministry should be run. From what James and Sirius have told me, you might be able to give them a more realistic view of the world and what actually needs to be done in it."

Professor Lupin was looking at Moody thoughtfully, his hazel eyes intense. A long moment passed, and the grey-haired Auror sipped his brandy.

"Well? What do you think?"

Lupin's eyes searched Moody's. Even the Auror's wild eyeball was now focused on the young man. Finally, Lupin took a deep breath.

"I can't, Alastor. I wish I could, I really do. But I wouldn't be able to get to the Auror Department. I wouldn't even be able to get through the Ministry doors."

Moody's eyebrows knitted in confusion, and the teenagers looked at each other quizzically. But then Tonks remembered going to the Ministry of Magic for the practical exam portion of the Auror application. Every entrance to the Ministry was flanked by sensors that read the body makeup of the people who entered. She had been immediately identified as a Metamorphmagus, and had had to wear a bright red badge with the word emblazoned upon it. She had been mortified at the time, but the euphoria of how well she had done on the exam had driven it from her mind until now.

She looked at Professor Lupin in alarm. If those sensors could identify a Metamorphmagus, then they would certainly identify a werewolf. And as Moody's eyes gradually widened, thoroughly taking in the network of scars that traced across Lupin's exposed skin, she could tell that he was putting two and two together. She watched, transfixed, as the Auror's vivid blue eye dropped to Lupin's chest, and the rapid intake of breath and subsequent muttered oaths that burst from Moody's mouth indicated that the eye could, indeed, see through clothing. She wasn't sure whether to be more horrified that Moody could literally see anybody naked if he wanted to, or that whatever scars extended to the rest of Lupin's body were bad enough to warrant such a reaction from this battle-hardened veteran.

Professor Lupin's jaw tightened as he stared at Moody almost defiantly. The older man's eye finally flickered back up to meet Lupin's gaze, and Tonks was relieved to see that his expression held nothing but grim respect for the young werewolf across the table.

"You've got real guts, kid," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're also a fucking idiot, telling me like that. How do you know I'm not some racist bugger who's gonna rat you out to the WCU?"

Professor Lupin smiled wryly.

"James and Sirius tell _me_ stories too. Then you made that crack about Umbridge, and I knew I could trust you."

Moody gave him a long, hard look. Then, suddenly, he wheezed with laughter.

"Fair enough. I take it you lot already knew?"

He was addressing the teenagers at the table, who nodded.

"All the seventh years know, sir," Tonks said, nervous to be speaking to this man who would soon be her instructor and superior, but forcing herself to sound confident. "And a lot of the younger students as well. Professor Lupin pretty much told us."

Moody shot Lupin an incredulous look.

"You _what_? Sirius told me you were insane, but I doubt _he_ even thought you were _that_ crazy. Do you have a death wish? Why in Merlin's balls would you tell a bunch of kids that you're a werewolf?"

He practically hissed the last part, his magical eye whirling around furtively. Lupin looked at him defiantly.

"Because I want them to see me for _who_ I am, with full knowledge of _what_ I am. Maybe if they can learn not to hate _me_, they can learn not to hate other Dark Creatures too."

Moody gaped at him, open-mouthed. Professor Lupin drained his firewhiskey, and Tonks watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He was looking surprisingly relaxed for such an intense conversation, and she wondered just how much of a lightweight he was.

"Are you sure you don't want to teach the Auror cadets?"

Moody had regained his voice. He was looking at Professor Lupin intently.

"Lad, I _need_ someone like you to teach these kids. I'm sure we can find a way around the sensors, there must be potions you can take…"

"Alastor," Lupin interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm more than pushing my luck as it is. When I told these kids the signs of lycanthropy in a human, I didn't expect to last another night at Hogwarts. To be completely honest, I went into this year fully expecting to be arrested at the end of it. When you came in that door, I really thought you were here to drag me off to Azkaban. I think all my students did too, hence the not very warm welcome."

He shot an affectionate glance at the teenagers at the table, and Moody looked at Tonks with what might have been grudging respect. Lupin continued.

"But somehow, against all odds, here I am. Free. Sitting in a pub, surrounded by people who _know_ that I'm a werewolf, and somehow _don't care_. Do you have any idea how much that means to me? It could end tomorrow, somebody could let something slip and the WCU could come for me. But tonight, right now, I am living. I am _living_, not just surviving. Severus makes Wolfsbane for me, I'm teaching some truly incredible students, I can send my paycheck back to Bulgaria to help people I care about…"

He paused, almost overcome with emotion. He wiped a hand across his mouth, taking in a deep breath.

"I know it's not especially brave of me, but… I don't want to rock the boat. I can't… I can't risk it. Not yet. It's not just the sensors, it's the bloody WCU bastards I'd run into in the hallway, or Umbridge, or the members of HAWE who I _know_ are in the Ministry, or just… just _everybody_."

He looked up, and his companions could see the panic beginning to form behind his eyes. Moody leaned forward, grabbing Lupin's wrist in much the same way that Lupin had grabbed Stan's only an hour before.

"Hey," the older man said. "Hey kid, calm down, it's okay. I'm sorry, lad. It wasn't fair for me to ask that of you. You're already risking too much as it is."

Lupin swallowed, his breath shallow and fast. Tonks was forcefully reminded of just how hard the past few days must have been for him. Moody, looking at the young man critically, obviously concluded that Lupin was upset enough to warrant more alcohol. He pressed his flask into the man's hand.

"Here. Drink this, it'll make you feel better."

Raising an eyebrow questioningly, Lupin took a swig of the unknown liquid. Moody and the teenagers laughed out loud when he clapped a hand to his mouth to keep from spitting it out. He swallowed it with difficulty, looking at the flask like it had betrayed him.

"What the fuck is _that_?" he asked, when he could finally speak again.

"Goblin moonshine," Moody said, grinning. "It's good for keeping warm on cold nights, and getting your mind off unpleasant things."

"It's definitely doing unpleasant things to my liver right now…" Lupin said, handing the flask back to Moody, who took a swig with no difficulty. Replacing the cap, Moody put the flask away and turned back to Lupin.

"Well, I'd best be off. Good to finally meet you, Lupin. I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you. And if this lot is anything to go by," he jerked his head at the teenagers, "then you're doing something right, here. Keep it up."

And with that he stumped out, wooden leg thumping across the floor unevenly.

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	16. Chapter 15

The seventh years were slowly meandering back to the castle. It was nearly midnight, and the path was lit by the light of a newly waning moon. Tonks found herself strolling along next to Lupin, an awkward silence stretching between them.

It was the first chance they'd had to really talk since she practically accosted him in the Great Hall, but somehow, she had no idea what to say to him. She was now fairly certain that what had started out as a repressed and denied schoolgirl crush was now full-blown attraction, and she caught herself glancing over at him much more than was necessary or discreet. She thought she caught him looking over at her once or twice as well, but it might have just been a trick of the light.

Her heart leapt when he cleared his throat.

"Tonks, I – uhh…"

Not an auspicious start. But it was comforting to know that she was not the only one who had no idea what to say. She allowed herself to look at him, praying that her feet wouldn't take the lapse of concentration as an opportunity to betray her and send her tumbling to the ground.

"Yes, Professor Lupin?"

For some reason, he grimaced when she addressed him. He looked over at her, meeting her eyes furtively.

"I'm… I'm not going to be your professor for much longer. You're not always gonna call me that, are you?"

She furrowed her eyebrows in slight confusion, but inside her stomach was doing flip-flops. She would _very much_ like to call him something else, something that put her on equal footing with him.

"Don't you like being a professor?"

"Of course I do, it's just… 'Professor Lupin' makes me sound so old, especially coming from _you_."

She smiled at him.

"I thought you _wanted_ to seem old," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "You're the one who hid the fact that you're only four years older than the rest of us."

He gave her an embarrassed smile, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Touché," he said, then after a moment of hesitation, "I just want you to know that after graduation, you're more than welcome to call me Remus. I'd like that."

She had to turn away from him, for fear that if she looked at his self-conscious hazel eyes any longer, she would jump on him right then and there.

"Okay," she said, smiling to herself. "But when am I going to get a chance to do that? After I graduate, I won't see very much of you…"

She did her best to keep the mournful tone out of her voice, feeling incredibly stupid and childish. A warm hand on her arm pulled her to a stop, turning her to face its owner. She suddenly realized that they had fallen far behind the others, and now stood alone in the moonlit lane. Looking up, she saw that Lupin was standing close enough to her that she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. He was looking at her intently.

"Of course you'll see me," he said, but then looked immediately uncertain, as though he had overstepped a boundary. "I mean – if you want to, of course."

His hand was still on her upper arm, gently grasping it and sending tendrils of warmth through her entire body. She was certain that he had completely forgotten about it, and had no idea how much his touch was affecting her. He looked down at her with eyes that shone with a vulnerability that made her heart ache.

"I… I was hoping we could be friends."

The simple words were spoken with such fragile hope that Tonks found herself utterly speechless, unable to express her feelings of _Yes! In Merlin's name, yes!_ At her stunned silence, Lupin's eyes dropped, and he removed his hand from her arm, taking a small step back even as she tried to find the words to keep him close to her.

"Dora, do you even realize what you did for me in the Great Hall two days ago?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He gave her no time to think of any.

"For the past five years, the only other people who've even _touched_ me, knowing full well that I was werewolf, were either Dark Creatures themselves or were trying to kill me. And then you came along and _hugged_ me in front of the whole school. I can't… I can't even begin to express how much that meant to me."

Tonks was aghast when she felt tears starting to form in her eyes, and suddenly words were no longer eluding her.

"That's – that's fucking _stupid!_" she cried out, alarmed by how angry she was at the injustice of it all. "It's _stupid_, and bloody _unfair_. You're an incredible person, why are people such _wankers_? What I did was _nothing_, you shouldn't have to feel so amazed that I hugged you, that should be something you get _every day _ \- "

She was abruptly, gloriously cut off by his warm lips crashing against hers. She gasped instinctively, and tasted the traces of Firewhiskey in his mouth. His large hands were framing her face, and she grasped the front of his shirt with trembling hands. Was this really happening? Had she somehow fallen into a dream? If she had, she never wanted to wake up, because his tongue sweeping across hers was shooting fireworks into every corner of her brain. She had had a few boyfriends over the years – some decent snogs and one incredibly awkward shag. But _this_… this was in another realm entirely.

It was over far too soon. Lupin suddenly tore himself away from her and stumbled back, looking horrified at what he had just done. For a long moment, they stared at each other with wide eyes, both breathing heavily.

"_Fuck_."

Lupin broke the silence with a loud curse, bringing his hands up to his hair and gripping it wildly, looking like he wanted to cry.

"Dora, I am _so sorry_," he said, holding out his hands to her in a placating gesture that just confused her. "I'm… fuck, I'm _sorry_. I don't know what just came over me – it won't happen again – you… you can't get it from saliva, I _promise_ – "

"_I kissed you back, Remus!_"

Her impassioned cry abruptly silenced the young man's guilt-ridden ramblings. He looked utterly shocked, as though he was only just beginning to realize that yes, she had kissed him back. Emphatically.

"I don't bloody _care_ that you're a werewolf," she said, her voice low and intense as she tried her best to hammer the point home. "I _wanted_ you to kiss me. And I _know_ that I can't get lycanthropy from saliva, and the fact that you feel like you have to say that is fucking _wrong_."

Her words echoed in the silence as he gaped at her.

"You… you _wanted_ me to kiss you?"

His voice was dramatically higher than usual, surprise making his voice crack like a teenage boy's. Despite the intensity of the situation, Tonks couldn't help but smile at the shock and undeniable elation in his eyes. She nodded, stepping closer to him cautiously like he was an easily spooked wild animal.

"Yes, I did," she said, not even sure where her sudden courage was coming from. He continued to stare at her as she moved closer, his breath rapid and shallow as she finally stopped within inches of him, close enough so she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She tilted her chin to look up at him. They were _so close_. All she needed to do was rise up on her tip-toes…

Suddenly, large hands on her shoulders guided her back to a more appropriate distance. It looked like it was taking every ounce of Lupin's self-control to resist her, but the rejection still stung. She pulled away from his hands, looking at him in confused hurt.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tonks," he said softly, and it looked like every word he spoke was physically painful for him. "I can't."

"Why not?" she asked, desperately trying to regain some semblance of self-control before she started crying. He looked nearly as miserable as she felt.

"Why not?" he echoed, as though the question was absurd. "I can give you about twenty reasons why not. I'm still your professor, for one thing! Dumbledore can look past the fact that I'm a werewolf, but I doubt he'd be too happy if I took advantage of one of my _students_."

"You're not _taking advantage_ of me!" she cried. "You're barely older than I am – "

"That doesn't matter, Dora! I'm still in a position of authority, it's inappropriate!"

She glared at him mutinously, and he sighed, running his hand through his hair again.

"Look," he said, sounding weary. "I'm sorry. I don't normally drink, and it makes me a little… well, I do things that I shouldn't do. Kissing you most definitely falls into that category. I'm sorry that it confused you, it won't happen again."

Confusion was rapidly beginning to turn into righteous anger in Tonks's mind. Ten minutes ago, she'd had no clue whether Lupin returned any of her feelings. Now, she was almost certain that he did, in full and then some. But he was retreating, he was running away, and his reason was only temporary.

"Graduation is in three weeks," she said boldly, staring him down. "You won't be my professor any more. What then?"

He looked genuinely flabbergasted by her question, and for a moment it seemed as though he had forgotten how to breathe. Finally, with a small cough, he spoke.

"I don't… I don't really understand. Do you… Dora, I'm a _werewolf_. You don't actually want to _be_ with me."

It was not a question, and it brought her back to the same angry rant that she had been on when he had so pleasantly interrupted her. Something about the way he automatically dismissed any possibility that she might genuinely like him made her irrationally upset.

"Why is that so difficult to believe?" she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "You've been lecturing us all year about how Dark Creatures deserve to be treated the same as humans! And yet you stand there, saying that because you're a werewolf, I shouldn't want to be with you. Shouldn't want you to even _touch_ me. _I do_. And it's not just some stupid schoolgirl crush. I'm _eighteen years old_, and I'm going to be a fucking _Auror cadet_ in two months time. I'm not some wilting bimbo you're 'taking advantage of'. I'm a woman who knows a good man when she _sees_ one."

Rant over, Tonks glared at him, her nostrils flared in anger and her breathing fast and irregular. Lupin was gaping at her, speechless, but right when she was beginning to think that she might have actually convinced him, he blinked and dropped his gaze, clearing his throat and shaking his head like he was trying to escape some sort of crazy daydream.

"Tonks, you are one of the most remarkable people I've ever met. You really are. This has nothing to do with who _you _are. If I were a normal 22-year old, I'd ask you out the moment you graduated."

He looked back up at her, and she could see just how much this was hurting him, just how sorry he was to have done this to her.

"But I'm not. I'm _not_ normal, I'm a Dark Creature. And while you and a lot of your friends seem to be okay with that, the rest of the world most definitely _isn't_. Being with me wouldn't just be_ dangerous_ – it would be emotional_ suicide_. My life is forfeit, every moment of every day. If my condition is exposed, I'll be _lucky_ if the WCU finds me first. Azkaban will be a _blessing_ compared to what the anti-Dark Creature groups will do to me if they find out I've been teaching their children all this time. And even if my lycanthropy isn't exposed in Britain, I still have to go back to Bulgaria to try and help the people there. It's incredibly dangerous, it's often completely pointless, but I can't _abandon_ them, I can't just _give up_. I have to know that my family didn't die for _nothing_ – "

He stopped abruptly, clamping a hand over his mouth and turning his gaze immediately to the ground, stepping even further away from her. Tonks's heart froze. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a cannonball. She found herself hoping, _praying_ that she hadn't heard him correctly; that she had somehow misunderstood…

But when he finally looked back up at her, she saw that a single tear had escaped the strict prison of his eyes. It made a solitary track down his scarred face, and she knew. His family was dead.

She took a small step forward, reaching out a hand to him helplessly. How could she do anything? How could she even begin to comfort him? He backed away from her, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tonks," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "The fact of the matter is that I probably don't have long for this world. And neither do any of the people who associate with me. I can't… _I will not do that to you_. I'm sorry."

He stepped backward, giving her one last achingly unhappy look before turning away. And by the light of the waning moon, she watched as he swiftly disappeared into the forest, melting into the trees with the ease of someone who had grown up amongst them.

Eighteen-year old Metamorphmagus extraordinaire Nymphadora Tonks stood in the lane leading to Hogwarts, practically unable to breathe. Part of her wanted to scream in anger. Why had he _kissed_ her, only to run away? How could he be so careless? But a larger part of her understood his actions entirely. And so she stood alone, tears streaming down her face, mourning a family she never knew and cursing the world that could be _so cruel_.

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	17. Chapter 16

In all honesty, James Potter really didn't like Bulgaria. Sure, there were some beautiful parts of the country, especially along the coast of the Black Sea. But the Dark Creature communities huddled in the most uninhabitable areas, using unpleasant climates and terrain to keep all but the most determined aggressors away. Huge anti-Apparition zones extended for miles around pocketed settlements, meaning that anytime the Aurors needed to bring in food and medical supplies, they had to hike for hours through thick forests and over steep, unforgiving mountains. More often than not, they needed a guide to help them find the villages and convince the inhabitants that they were friends, not enemies. Hence the reason James, Sirius, Frank, and Alice were standing in a small clearing on the outer edge of the anti-Apparition zone, eyeing the stormy skies above and waiting impatiently for Remus Lupin to arrive.

It was late July, but up here in the mountains, James could see his breath in the air. The clouds hanging low in the early morning sky looked ominous, and James could tell he was not the only one who would much rather be at home, still in bed. But they had promised Lupin that they would be here today, laden with supplies for yet another impoverished Dark Creature settlement, and so here they were. In truth, not many Aurors were willing to go to Eastern Europe. Most of the people Remus relied on to help him were former members of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius had once joked that this was because the former Order members were all masochists, and could only be happy in the midst of drama, but they all knew that they couldn't turn their backs on what was happening here. Even if all they could legally do was bring in a paltry amount of supplies every now and again, then by Merlin they were going to do it. Now if only Lupin would show up…

A loud _pop_ echoed through the clearing, and the man in question appeared. James hadn't seen him since Tonks's Hogwarts graduation, when he had seemed stressed and unhappy, but overall fairly healthy. But almost two straight months in Eastern Europe had returned him to the fatigued, dangerously skinny, wild-looking young man that James and his fellow Aurors were sadly so used to. His faded khaki trousers were patched and worn, and his flannel shirt and tattered dark green jacket seemed hardly enough to keep out the chill of the Bulgarian mountains. His sandy hair was even longer than usual, falling down around his now fully bearded face. But he looked at them and grinned happily, belying his wild appearance.

"Ah, you guys are the best, thank you so much for coming!"

He walked toward them, a large backpack weighing him down. There was evidence that HAWE somehow monitored the anti-Apparition zones for signs of magic, trying to trace the Dark Creatures by spell usage. This meant that not only did they have to carry everything in on their backs, but the use of all forms of magic was strictly off limits. The four Aurors wore bulky packs filled to the brim with rice, pasta, preserved meat, butter, cheese, sugar, flour, and as many other high calorie items as they could possibly fit. Alice's pack had been designated for all the medical supplies and warm clothing.

Lupin's pack looked even bigger than he was, and James eyed it suspiciously. He had a pretty good idea of where Remus's teaching salary went, and it didn't look as though _any_ of it was going towards the kid's own clothing or health. James watched in concern as the young man's mouth pulled into a slight grimace as the weight of the pack shifted on his frame. He was hurt. But knowing him, he wouldn't say anything, and he would avoid their questions like it was his job.

"You okay, Remus?" Frank asked, clearly also noticing the pained look on Lupin's face. But the young man looked at him with a bright smile that didn't quite make it all the way to his eyes.

"Yeah, mate. All good. Let's get going, Tervel is about three hours away."

He plunged into the forest, and James and Frank exchanged an exasperated look. _We need to do something about that whole 'selfless martyr' thing_, James thought darkly, before following Remus into the trees._ It's going to get him killed someday_.

The young werewolf moved through the thick undergrowth with a confidence and grace that seemed nearly impossible, especially considering he was carrying his own body weight on his back. He led them through the trees quickly, following a path that none of them could see. James crashed along behind him, cursing occasionally when the branches seemed to gang up against him.

"How've you been, Remus?" James asked, trying to slow the young man down with conversation. "How are things here?"

Remus glanced over his shoulder, but kept up the same relentless pace.

"I'm alright, James. Things here have been… well, they've been good, actually. Better than they've been in a long time."

"Really? How so?"

"No HAWE attacks in almost three months – knock on wood," he rapped his knuckles against a tree trunk as he passed it, "all the villages have a full range of vaccines now, so fewer kids are getting sick, and it's been a lot warmer than usual, so we're hoping the winter won't be as bad as last year. And we've also started… well, you'll see what we've started when we get to Tervel."

With that mysterious statement, he fell silent, and James was forced to concentrate fully on not doing a faceplant in the undergrowth.

Three and a half hours later, the exhausted travelers reached the top of what Remus said was the last hill before the village. Looking down, James saw a sea of green stretching out beneath them. No sign of a village was visible – not even smoke from a campfire – but that was normal. In a region where exposure meant death, and the memory of Kamena was still fresh, the Dark Creature communities were incredibly good at hiding. The most common settlement consisted of no more than thirty people, most of whom were related in some way. They lived simply, with wood and deer hide structures that were easily dismantled and moved to different locations with relative frequency. With no allies and no support, eternally one step ahead of HAWE and other militant groups, the Dark Creatures in Eastern Europe had been forced to regress to hunter-gatherers, constantly on the verge of starvation.

What James found truly difficult to swallow was the fact that even this – this life of eternal hunger and fear – was better than the life a branded Dark Creature could expect in Britain. He had seen a shopkeeper in Diagon Alley beat a branded werewolf child with a stick for daring to ask for a slice of bread. At least here, they had some semblance of control over their own lives, some shreds of dignity.

The village guards saw them well before James had any idea they were even close to their destination. He flinched violently and only just managed to restrain himself from pulling out his wand when loud, aggressive voices hailed them from the treetops in a language he didn't understand. Remus, grinning up as though he recognized the voices, called back in the same dialect. From what James could make out, it sounded vaguely like Greek.

A truly huge man leapt from the upper branches of the tree, landing before them with a thump that shook the ground. He was a good foot taller than Remus and about 150 pounds heavier, made of pure muscle. His skin was tanned and heavily scarred, and his face was weathered and lined by years of toil and pain. James put him at about fifty years old, judging by his thick, greying hair. And he was a werewolf. There was absolutely no question about that. James was pretty sure that if he looked up "werewolf" in the dictionary, the definition would be a picture of this very man. He was giving Remus such a feral, wolfish grin that James didn't even need to see the Ministry brand numbers snaking their way up the side of his neck.

"Mykonos!" Remus cried happily, and the older man grabbed the young werewolf in a tight hug.

"_Eínai kaló na vlépeis , o gios_," the man – Mykonos – said fiercely. Gripping Remus by the shoulder, he turned guarded eyes to the Aurors.

"Myko, these are my friends," Remus said, gesturing to his slightly nervous companions. "You can trust them. They've saved my neck more times than I can count, and they brought supplies for the village."

Myko nodded slowly, his sharp grey eyes staring them down one by one.

"And do your friends have names?" he said in a deep, strongly accented growl. James stepped forward, holding out his hand and trying not to look intimidated as he craned his neck to meet Myko's eyes.

"James Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Myko gave him a hard stare, then looked down at the hand James was offering.

"Auror?"

James gave a short nod, standing his ground and refusing to let his hand waver. He met Myko's gaze resolutely. This was always the hardest part of every mission – gaining even the smallest amount of trust from people whose families had often been torn apart by the Ministry and its Aurors. Myko made no move to take his hand, glaring at him intently, and James suddenly felt very weary. As usual, it was going to take Remus playing his trump card…

"They know about me, Myko."

Remus's gravelly tenor broke the tense silence. Myko turned to look at him, one grey eyebrow raised.

"They know I'm a werewolf," Remus continued solemnly. "And look – " he pulled down the collar of his jacket and shirt, revealing the scarred skin of his neck and upper chest. "No brand."

The huge man turned back to look at the four Aurors, an unreadable look in his eyes.

"You can trust them, Myko," Remus said again, and finally, slowly, Myko took James's hand, gripping it firmly. He didn't look entirely convinced, but it was a start. Sirius, Frank, and Alice introduced themselves, and then the large man looked back at Remus.

"You are late, _maláka_," he said, cuffing the young man on the head in what appeared to be an affectionate gesture. Remus ducked away, grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, asshole. Are the others here yet?"

"Here, and already arguing. Are you sure this is a good idea? I think we can do better on our own…"

"If we don't start cooperating, nothing is ever going to change," Remus interrupted, looking up at Myko intently. "I know they can be difficult, I know it's sometimes hard to trust them… but if we don't work together, HAWE wins. And we lose everything."

Myko grimaced, but nodded.

"Yes, you are right. But I still want to knock their heads together, sometimes. Especially the banshees. Do they ever shut up?"

Remus laughed, and reached up to clap Myko on the shoulder.

"If they did, they wouldn't be called banshees, would they? Just be glad they're talking, not shrieking."

Myko gave a snort of amusement, and turned to lead them down a faint path in the undergrowth. James gave Remus a confused look, wondering what on earth was going on, but the young man shook his head.

"You'll understand in a second."

They followed closely behind Mykonos, who led them on a winding trail along a narrow stream. After a few minutes, the path turned abruptly, and James started to hear the faint echo of voices. And suddenly, Tervel emerged from the trees.

More than twenty large, deer hide structures lined the edges of a clearing, and people bustled between them. Women cooked over small, smokeless fires, using battered iron pots and pans. Several men were cutting and stacking wood, a small boy was splitting kindling, several more children were scraping intently at a deerskin stretched out between two houses, and James watched in amazement as a wiry, leather-skinned old man sitting on the very edge of the clearing expertly worked a piece of stone in his hand, striking pieces off it in practiced, deliberate motions. A small pile of beautiful, finished arrowheads at his side evidenced his skill.

James had been to similar villages all over Eastern Europe, but the sight still floored him. Take away magic, technology, and the safety and stability of civilization, and people were forced to live in the manner their ancestors did thousands of years ago. James could see some signs of the modern world in the tattered Muggle clothing worn by some of Tervel's inhabitants, in the pistol strapped to Myko's hip, in the large owl that dropped a letter into the lap of a tired-looking woman nursing a baby… but it really felt as though they had entered some sort of strange time warp. Like they were looking at some of Europe's earliest hunter-gatherers, not modern wizards who had been forced out of their homes and livelihoods by circumstances beyond their control.

The center of the clearing was dominated by a large firepit. It was clearly designed to keep a large number of people warm during the winter months, but right now it was just a pile of ash, encircled by the strangest assortment of individuals James had ever seen. Two goblins sat on upturned stumps, in heated conversation with a pair of banshees and an enraged hag, who was pointing a gnarled finger at the goblins accusingly. Beside her, three vampires sat with their heads bent, talking quietly and shooting suspicious glances at everyone else. Two Veelas sat opposite them, perched primly on a log and looking around at the village with an air of faint disgust. Half a dozen other werewolves either stood or sat around the firepit, the discomfort of their postures indicating that they were not from Tervel. And to top it all off, two large centaurs stood slightly removed from the rest, stamping their feet and looking imperious. James found himself wishing he had brought a camera. This many different Dark Creatures in the same place could not possibly be a common sight.

As they entered the clearing, several villagers saw Remus and called out to him in Greek, raising their hands in greeting. But then they caught sight of the Aurors, and their faces fell. Within seconds, the clearing was so silent that James could hear his heart beating. More than forty pairs of hostile eyes were fixed on the four Aurors. There was a long, tense silence.

"Well, this is awkward," Sirius said loudly. Despite himself, James felt his lips curl up in a slightly hysterical smile. _And this is why we're friends…_

Suddenly, Remus was speaking rapidly in Greek, raising his voice so everybody in the clearing could hear him. Slowly, the hostile stares began to soften somewhat. James watched as the young werewolf pulled his jacket and shirt collars down again, showing his unbranded skin. When his speech was over, there was another long silence as the villagers and visitors continued to stare suspiciously at the Aurors. And then, finally, the tension was broken by a loud, jovial-sounding middle-aged woman saying something in Greek that made almost everyone laugh. James gave an imperceptible sigh of relief, and looked at Remus curiously as he turned back to them, also grinning.

"What did she say?" he asked.

"Ah, it's hard to explain," the young man said, chuckling. "Basically, she's fine with you lot coming in, as long as _you_," he looked pointedly at Sirius, "pay her a _special visit_ afterwards. She said to tell you that she promises not to bite, but she can't promise not to suck."

James, Frank, and Alice burst into shocked laughter. Sirius looked like he was torn between horror and admiration of the woman's crude sense of humor. James clapped his best friend on the shoulder.

"Thirty-five years old, and women all over the world are still throwing themselves at you," he said, laughing at the terrified look on Sirius's face.

"She's not… she's not serious, is she?" the black-haired wizard asked nervously. Remus laughed.

"_She's_ not Sirius, she'd just like a piece of you."

"Oh haha, very funny, like I haven't heard that one before."

Sirius glared at his three friends, who were practically in fits of laughter. They had been in absurd situations before, but this was definitely in the running for first place – surrounded by the strangest assortment of Dark Creatures ever assembled, in the middle of the Bulgarian wilderness, laughing their heads off at a crude sexual innuendo made a Greek werewolf woman.

"She's just joking, Sirius," Remus said, taking pity on the poor man. Still chuckling, he gestured for them to follow him. "Come on over here, we can put our packs down."

He led them to one of the huts. They stooped to enter, and found that it was already packed with preserved meat, pots full of collected seeds and nuts, deerskin clothing, and depleted medical supplies. They added the contents of their packs to the piles, and James tried not to wonder if what they had brought would truly make any difference during the harsh winter.

Packs empty, they turned to look at Remus, who seemed uncharacteristically nervous. He wrung his hands as he gazed at them.

"So I'm sure you noticed the… uh… the other people who are here," he said. "If you want – you don't have to, but… if you want to, come to the firepit. This is the very first meeting of D.C.E.F. – Dark Creatures for Equality and Freedom."

James raised his eyebrows, glancing out at the motley assortment of individuals ranged around the firepit. Dark Creatures for Equality and Freedom? He looked at Sirius, Frank, and Alice, who seemed just as surprised as he was. Remus raised his chin defiantly, as though daring them to tell him that it was stupid, that it would never work. Sirius cleared his throat.

"D.C.E.F.?"

James saw Remus's eyes dim slightly at the incredulous tone in Sirius's voice. But he had despaired too soon.

"Come on, mate, it's a great idea, but that is a _terrible_ acronym," Sirius continued, wincing slightly. "H.A.W.E. is bad enough, can't you lot come up with something catchy? I mean, even Hermione's S.P.E.W. was at least memorable…"

Remus laughed, relief shining in his eyes. And James suddenly realized that the young man really _valued_ their opinions, really _wanted_ their help.

"I suppose we'll have to help them come up with something better then, won't we Sirius?" he asked, though his eyes never left Remus's face. The young man looked at him, and James could see the immense gratitude in his shy smile. For the first time, James truly believed what Mad-Eye had told him only a few weeks before. In this moment, despite his haggard appearance and his untrimmed beard, Remus looked every bit the 22-year old boy that he was.

"You got that right, James," Sirius said, reaching out and gripping Remus's shoulder tightly. "We're with you, kid."

**Thank you all so much for the reviews, it makes writing this even more of a joy!**

**_Eínai kaló na vlépeis , o gios_ – It's good to see you, son**

**_maláka _– asshole**


	18. Chapter 17

"I don't have to fucking listen to _you_, pony boy!"

The first meeting of D.C.E.F. was going as expected – that is, horribly. _Well_, Sirius thought, watching as an enraged werewolf made a very rude hand gesture at one of the centaurs, _at least no punches have been thrown. Yet._

Over the past hour, the Aurors had been mostly silent witnesses to a cavalcade of heated interactions born from years of war, poverty, suffering, and severe distrust. The Dark Creatures of the world had never harbored much love for each other, but the events of the Wizarding War and its subsequent fallout had turned mild dislike into full-blown hatred in many cases. Voldemort had used his Imperiused and coerced Dark Creature forces to exacerbate the tensions between groups, pitting vampires against werewolves, centaurs against veelas… And with no other possible allies, and no way of knowing that it was Voldemort who had orchestrated all the attacks, many Dark Creatures had turned desperately to the only person they thought could offer them any protection. The Dark Lord was more than happy to help them – at a price weighed in blood. Sirius often wondered what the casualty count of the War would have been, if the Ministry had included Dark Creatures along with humans. Thousands? Ten thousand? Certainly an exponentially larger number than the 102 casualties written in the history books – books that made no mention of Voldemort's merciless manipulation of Dark Creature populations, though it had been exposed after the War was over.

The post-War discovery of Voldemort's malicious plots and meddling made no difference – the damage was already done. Thousands of people had seen other Dark Creatures tear their families and homes apart, and xenophobia was well entrenched. Kamena was simply the spark that ignited a fire that had been raging in Eastern Europe ever since, ensuring that HAWE's goal of exterminating all Dark Creatures would be done at the hands of Dark Creatures themselves – unless this meeting started going a lot better, and fast.

Sirius really shouldn't have been surprised that Remus was the backbone of this motley gathering. The kid had visited more Eastern European villages than Sirius could count, inhabited by every kind of Dark Creature under the sun. Somehow, the young man had managed not only to gain the trust of all the people who now sat around the firepit, but had also somehow convinced them to come to this meeting, and try to work with people they instinctively hated.

Remus was running the meeting as best he could, constantly mediating so that the disparate factions could discuss the unpleasant challenges they faced – how to open channels of communication between villages, how to establish trust between groups, how to coordinate raids on HAWE strongholds…

Tensions had been high during the whole meeting, but this last issue looked like it was going to be the one to bring everyone to blows.

"Why should _we_ have to risk our lives fighting Humans Against _Werewolf_ Equality?" a dark-haired centaur sneered unpleasantly. "I don't see the _werewolves_ helping us in the Ukraine! My fellow centaurs are hunted down like _animals_, and all you heathens do is complain – "

"Isn't that just like a centaur, only looking out for _himself!_" shouted the enraged werewolf. He was almost as tall as Mykonos, with a huge barrel chest that strained at the buttons of his shirt. He looked more than ready for a fight, rising to his feet and rolling up his sleeves, revealing thickset arms covered in scars. "I know your type. You'll _say_ that you're going to help, but then you'll run away on your four fucking hooves at the last minute, leaving us all to _die_ – "

"That's _enough!_" Remus cried, his tenor voice cracking with exhaustion and emotion. He stood as well, standing between the large werewolf and the centaur with his hands extended to them both placatingly. He gave the werewolf an intense look.

"Antagonizing each other isn't going to get us _anywhere_. _Sit down_, Alessio."

To Sirius's immense surprise, Alessio glared at Remus for a moment, shot one last hateful look at the centaur, and then complied, sitting back down on a stump with an angry huff and shooting a dark look around the firepit. Remus let out a small sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose wearily.

"To answer your question, Vasyl," he said, turning to the centaur who was looking mutinous, "you're right, it _is_ called Humans Against _Werewolf_ Equality. But they are obviously not picky about who they kill. The last attack was on a goblin village in Estonia."

He nodded sadly to the two goblins present, who bowed their heads.

"The villagers didn't have any good way of calling for help," Remus said, his voice choked. "They sent me a Patronus, but I was at Hogwarts, and by the time I got there, there was nothing I could do. If we had ways of communicating with each other, _trust_ between communities… then the vampires in the town only thirty miles away could have been there in time to do _something_. Instead, twenty-three people are dead."

He took a deep, shaky breath, centering himself before looking back up at Vasyl.

"I understand your concern. I understand _all_ of your concerns. Why should you risk your lives for other people, people you don't know, people you don't even _like_? But you have to understand – our fragmentation, our hatred… it makes it _easy_ for HAWE and other groups to pick us off, one by one. I'm not asking you to be friends. I'm not asking you all to join hands and sing songs around the fire. I'm asking you to tolerate each other enough so we can work together to _end this_. HAWE is the largest, most powerful anti-Dark Creature organization. If we can bring them down, the others will follow. If we bring them down, we can make the world a safer place for our children. _All_ our children."

A long silence greeted his words. Sirius looked around the firepit, seeing expressions that ranged from contemplative to determined to still hostile. Finally, a cold, quiet voice broke the air.

"Tell me something, young Mr. Lupin."

Sirius turned to look at the speaker – a thin, blond vampire woman with alabaster skin and pale blue eyes, whose voice brought a chill to Sirius's blood.

"Suppose we do manage to corral ourselves, and pull off a miraculous victory against the forces of evil?" she said, sounding incredibly skeptical of the idea. "Suppose we beat the humans at their own game? What then? What do we do with these people who have inflicted such pain? I take it from your choice of companions," her hand waved lazily towards the Aurors, who sat together on one side of the firepit, "that you are as ridiculously sympathetic towards humans as you seem to be towards all living things, no matter how pathetic they may be."

Her eyes flickered around the firepit, and several people tensed, offended by her implication.

"Therefore," the vampire continued, ignoring the insulted looks. "I assume you would baulk at the idea of simply… _killing_ any members of anti-Dark Creature groups we manage to catch."

Several people immediately began speaking at the same time, but one voice stood out above the rest. Vasyl, the imperious centaur, snorted loudly, his bushy eyebrows raised derisively.

"_Kill_?" he said. "Don't you mean, _suck dry_?"

The vampire woman drew herself up, her pale eyes flashing dangerously at Vasyl.

"Does it _matter_? They deserve to die, and we deserve to eat. It seems like a logical solution to me."

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Vasyl – who really seemed to be itching for a fight – beat him to it.

"_Logical_? Was it _logical_ to attack Zboriv during the War, to feast on the blood of every centaur who lived there? To murder _my brother_?"

The vampire shot to her feet, infuriated.

"How many times do we have to tell you, you imbecile – the Dark Lord had our _children_! What else could we have done?"

Sirius watched in horror as the meeting finally, inevitably, descended into violence. Vasyl reared up on his hind legs, lashing out with large hooves at the slender vampire before him. But there was a blur of motion, and the woman was knocked to the side, out of the path of the centaur's attack. And then Remus was on the ground, gasping futily for air as he clutched his chest, curling in on himself in pain. Vasyl returned to all fours, his face melting into horror as he realized who had borne the brunt of his anger.

Sirius leapt to his feet, racing forward and falling to his knees at Remus's side. Ignoring the angry cries of the people around him, he grabbed the young man's shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. Remus's wide, hazel eyes were filled with pain and fear as he tried desperately to fill his lungs with air. Sirius had never felt more helpless. He couldn't do any of the healing spells he knew, for fear that the magic would bring HAWE down on their heads. He could only watch as the young man fought for breath.

"It's okay, kid," he said, though he had no idea if he was telling the truth. He felt James, Frank, and Alice join him, and their presence calmed him slightly. "It's okay. Breathe, just breathe."

Alice, who had always been a better healer than all of them put together, quickly unbuttoned Remus's shirt, exposing his pale chest. The first thing Sirius noticed was that the kid was severely malnourished. His ribs stood out frighteningly from his skin, and Sirius felt bile rise to his throat as he saw hard evidence of Remus's condition in the vivid scar tissue that tracked across his torso.

The only upside to the young man's emaciated state was that it allowed Alice to make a quick diagnosis.

"He's got a couple broken ribs," she said, running her hand gently along his ribcage. The skin beneath her fingers was rapidly turning purple in the vague shape of Vasyl's hoof. At her touch, Remus gave a small groan. He was gradually regaining his breath, and Alice ran one hand through his sandy hair soothingly.

"You'll be alright, Remus," she said, in a tone she usually reserved for her son Neville. "We'll get you back to England, and Lily will have you right as rain in no time."

The ground shook to Sirius's right, and he turned to find Myko kneeling beside him, as well as a muscular young man who could only be Myko's son. They shared the same immense build, and the same angular, Greek features. They were both staring at Remus with blatant worry, and Myko reached out to grip the fallen werewolf's shoulder tightly. Remus looked up at him weakly, and gave a small cough. Sirius felt his stomach drop when he saw blood staining the young man's lips.

The noise surrounding them suddenly became too much for them to ignore. With their mediator lying injured on the ground, the Dark Creatures were shouting angrily at each other, standing up and pointing accusingly around the firepit, and Sirius could see D.C.E.F. ending almost as soon as it began…

"OY! SHUT IT, YOU LOT!"

An unbelievably loud voice thundered from Sirius's right, and he turned to stare at Myko's son in astonishment. The young man was on his feet, staring angrily at the crowd of Dark Creatures who had fallen silent at his authoritative outburst.

"Remus is _hurt_," he said, his voice quieter, but no less passionate. His Greek accent was less pronounced than his father's, but still noticeable. He looked from face to face, giving every person an intense gaze.

"He's hurt, and _we did it_."

Sirius looked around in astonishment as nearly everyone deflated, anger suddenly muted. More than a few concerned looks were cast at the young man who was struggling to rise to his elbows, ignoring Alice's hushed attempts to keep him on the ground. Myko's son wasn't finished.

"How many more of the people we love have to get hurt? How many more have to die before we realize that fighting amongst ourselves is _stupid_?"

There was a long silence. Sirius could practically hear the wheels turning in peoples' heads. Remus was determinedly trying to rise, and Sirius reached to help him, shooting Alice a quelling look. She could worry about his ribs later – right now, Remus was on a mission. The eyes of every Dark Creature in the clearing turned to the young man as he finally sat up, leaning heavily on Sirius and holding his left arm protectively over his ribcage. His breathing was fast and painfully shallow, and Sirius began to wonder how in the hell they were going to get him over all the mountains between here and the edge of the anti-Apparition zone.

"Alex is right," Remus said. His voice was so quiet that everyone had to strain to hear him. "Fighting amongst ourselves has led to nothing but pain and suffering. It's time to end it. It's time to demand more from ourselves."

He closed his eyes briefly, summoning strength before continuing.

"We will _not_ kill any members of HAWE we manage to capture. We will prove our decency – our _humanity_, as it were – and return them to the Ministry to face trial."

"Remus, lad," Vasyl interjected, looking thoroughly ashamed of what he had done to the young werewolf. "Even if we _do_ manage to do that, do you truly believe the Wizengamot will prosecute them? Send them to Azkaban? The Ministry does not recognize us as _people_, why would they take our side?"

Remus gave the centaur a small smile.

"That, my friend, is where these lovely Aurors come in."

Everyone's gaze shifted suspiciously to the four humans. Sirius forced himself not to shift uncomfortably under their scrutiny. He shot Remus a confused look. What did he expect them to do? The young man glanced up at him, eyes willing him to go along with what he was about to say.

"We're not entirely without friends in the Ministry," Remus said, voice still weak as he took shallow breaths. "The members of the Order of the Phoenix are sympathetic to our cause – Aurors, politicians, _Albus Dumbledore_. It may seem like nobody in the wizarding world gives a shit about us, but we _do_ have allies. For Merlin's sake, almost half the students at Hogwarts _know_ that I'm a werewolf, and yet I'm still returning in the fall to teach. Things are _changing_. If James, Sirius, Frank, and Alice can stand here, willing to listen and wanting to help, then there is _hope_."

The barrel-chested werewolf, Alessio, cleared his throat. "Remus, it's all well and good that you have a few friends; that a few little kids seem to like you enough to keep their mouths shut about your condition… But I think you're being overly optimistic about how many people's opinions you can change."

A few heads nodded in agreement with his words, and the man continued, his voice rising in agitation.

"The world _hates_ us. They don't see us as people, they see us as _animals_. And of the few wizards who are even aware that HAWE exists, I'm willing to bet that most of them fully support their cause."

There was a short silence. Alessio was staring at Remus, his eyes angry and determined.

"They want us _dead_, Remus. If we send HAWE members to the Ministry to be tried, they'll only release them, and say _good luck_. I know you don't want to hear it, but our only hope is killing them all before they kill us."

"Killing people is only going to hurt your cause," Sirius burst out, feeling Remus's body trembling against him in exhaustion. These people were impossible, how did the kid deal with them on a regular basis? "You start murdering HAWE members, and the rest of them will shout it from the rooftops. You'll turn the whole world against you."

"What do _you_ know about it, _human_?" Alessio snarled. "The world is _already _against us! You think you're being all _noble_, helping out your little werewolf friend? You have _no idea_ what his life has been like," he hissed, pointing to the young man leaning against Sirius's chest. "You have _no idea_ what those HAWE bastards have _done to him_, done to us all! If we manage to kill some of them, it'll be no more than they _deserve_."

His angry words echoed throughout the suddenly silent clearing. Even the villagers, who had been quietly working throughout the meeting, were frozen, watching the proceedings with guarded eyes. Sirius glared at Alessio, but found he had no rebuttal. It was true – he really _didn't_ have any idea what these people had been through. What _Remus_ had been through. His arm tightened instinctively around the young man's shoulders.

The silence was broken by Remus's pained cough. Sirius looked down to see him pulling a hand spattered with blood away from his mouth, and then Remus was speaking, his voice quiet and positively radiating with restrained emotion.

"The moment we start killing them… is the moment they _win_," he said, staring resolutely at the ground. "I want them dead _just as badly_ as you do, Alessio. But once we go down that road, there is no going back. Simply taking our revenge would prove to the world that we _are_ animals, that we _do_ deserve to be slaughtered. We're _better_ than that…"

He turned shining, uncertain eyes to his fellow Dark Creatures, looking around the firepit slowly.

"…aren't we?"

His soft question was met with silence, and Remus collapsed back against Sirius, clearly spent. It was past time they got him out of there. He hadn't been in great physical shape before Vasyl kicked him, but now Sirius was worried that if they didn't get him to a real Healer soon, he'd be in big trouble. Fast werewolf healing be damned, internal bleeding wasn't something you just brushed off.

Sirius obviously wasn't the only one who was thinking along these lines. Myko rose to his feet.

"Remus is correct. We cannot just take our revenge."

He looked intently around the firepit, staring everyone down.

"We have much more to discuss today. I think we are ready, no, to remain civil? Because Remus must leave, we don't have the correct supplies to heal his injury."

The large man turned to the Aurors.

"You will take him, no? Take him back to England, make sure he is healthy. He has never been that good at taking care of himself," he said, looking down at Remus ruefully. The young man glanced up at him in annoyance, muttering something in Greek that made Myko and Alex chuckle. But Sirius was surprised that Remus made no effort to contradict Myko's request. The Aurors had seen Remus hurt on multiple occasions, but the young man had always brushed it off, refusing any more than the most rudimentary help. He must really be in pain, if he wasn't arguing the point at all.

James nodded fiercely.

"We'll take him back. We can't bring him to the hospital, but my wife is a Healer."

Myko gave him a short nod, gratitude and worry shining in his eyes. Their mutual concern for the injured young man had clearly erased any lingering suspicion in the Greek werewolf's mind, and he gripped James's shoulder tightly.

"Thank you, James Potter," he said. "My son will accompany you to the edge of the anti-Apparition zone. You may need protection."

Alex nodded, then crouched down beside Remus.

"You ready, _Kólos_?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at his friend. Remus nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as Alex slid an arm underneath his armpits and gently lifted him to his feet. Remus let out a slow hiss of air, clearly managing the pain. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and Sirius could see that the bruising had spread across his entire chest, turning his skin an alarming shade of purple. The next few hours of tramping through the wilderness were _not_ going to be fun.

Vasyl, clearly still feeling horrible, cleared his throat.

"If… if it would help at all," he said, looking at Remus tentatively, "I suppose you could… you could ride on my back."

More than a few eyebrows rose at the offer. Centaurs were incredibly proud creatures, and _never_ let anyone ride on them like a common _horse_. Remus stared at the dark-haired centaur in shock for a moment, then his mouth curled up into a smile.

"Thank you, Vasyl, I appreciate the offer. But you should stay here and lend your voice to the meeting. Besides, I think ducking through all the branches while sitting on your back would actually hurt more than just walking…"

Vasyl nodded shortly, looking relieved. Remus returned his nod, his eyes making it clear that he harbored no anger towards the centaur.

The Aurors grabbed their empty packs, and Alex took Remus's, which still contained some of the young man's gear and supplies. With a short nod to his father, Alex began steering them towards the edge of the clearing without preamble, wasting no time on goodbyes. They had a long march ahead of them.

Sirius looked back as they entered the trees, catching a last glimpse of Tervel and its busy inhabitants, and the members of D.C.E.F. who were slowly returning to their seats to resume the meeting. Within moments, the clearing disappeared into the trees, and the voices faded. Sirius couldn't help but wonder if what they had just witnessed was the beginning of a better future for Eastern Europe… or the beginning of an even bloodier chapter in its violent history.

**Aaah things are getting complicated! Hope y'all enjoy it, thanks for the reviews!**


	19. Chapter 18

Alice didn't know whether to be pleased or concerned that the trek out of the anti-Apparition zone was going faster than she had expected. Remus walked along steadily, his left arm curled around his side, only occasionally reaching out with his right hand to brace himself against a tree or a branch as he passed silently through the undergrowth. Alex walked directly behind him, the tall Greek watching his friend's motions carefully. An hour had passed since they had left Tervel, and no one had spoken yet, the unnatural silence of the forest pressing in on them uncomfortably. Alice stole a glance at Remus, whose mouth was a tight line of suppressed pain. She tried not to think about all the damage he could potentially be doing to his body, simply by walking. She had wrapped a bandage tightly around his chest to try and give his ribs some support, but in the end she was only an amateur Healer. He needed professional care, and there were several more mountains to climb before they could get him to Lily.

Alice could tell that both werewolves were feeling troubled by the events of the DCEF meeting. It had not been a roaring success, but then again it hadn't been an abysmal failure either. She wished she had some way of reassuring them; some way of telling them that everything would work out in the end. But she knew there was a good chance that _nothing_ would work out. She knew that the Dark Creature communities faced almost insurmountable odds in their fight for equality and freedom. What could she say to comfort these young men, whose lives, families, and futures were wrapped up in such a desperate struggle?

Alice almost laughed out loud when, with an ominous rumble, the skies that had been threatening them all day finally opened, and cold drops of rain began to fall. Of course. Because the only thing this miserable little parade needed was some rain.

Quiet laughter sounded from her left. Glancing over, she saw that Alex was looking up into the rain, chuckling as water sluiced down his face.

"You know what this reminds me of, _Kólos_?" he called out to Remus, who hadn't even looked up when the downpour started. He made no indication that he had even heard Alex, as he trudged up the hill determinedly. Undeterred by his friend's silence, Alex continued. He had obviously decided that they had been silent and morose for long enough, and that his injured friend needed a distraction.

"This reminds me of that time – what was it, three years ago now? – when you and I got lost on our way back from Burgas. It was the Quidditch World Cup, and you'd gotten into some stupid bar fight with a bunch of Irish dragon tamers, and we tried to get back before morning because my mum and dad would have had our hides if they knew we were drinking in a wizard pub. Remember, _Kólos_?"

There was a short silence, and Alice began to wonder if Remus was even aware of what was going on around him. But then, with a small cough, the young man replied quietly.

"It wasn't just _me_ who got into that fight. If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who started it."

Alex grinned proudly. "Ah, but they were asking for it. Insulting the Greek Chasers, pah! As if Troy, Mullet, and Moran could possibly compete with them."

"Didn't Ireland beat Greece that year?" James asked teasingly, joining Alex in his efforts to lighten the mood. The young Greek waved his hand in the air, as if shooing James's comment away.

"We don't talk about that, it didn't happen," he said, winking back at James. "What _did_ happen is that _Kólos _and I tried to find our way back in the dark, in the rain, so drunk that we couldn't even remember how to use the compass."

"We were lucky we made it back to Tervel in one piece," Remus said, amusement creeping into his voice despite his solemn words. "_Anything_ could have happened to us."

"Oh, you're always so melodramatic," Alex griped. "Nothing attacked us, unless you count that rabbit that you almost blasted."

"I thought it was a _manticore_," Remus protested, sounding miffed. Several people stifled sniggers.

"_Kólos_ the Rabbit Blaster," Alex teased, reaching out to steady his friend when Remus's foot slipped in the rapidly gathering mud. All of them were becoming quite wet, and very cold. Alice cursed herself for forgetting the raincoats. She _knew_ she had left something behind at Auror Headquarters…

"What does _Kólos_ mean, Alex?" Sirius called out, as they reached the top of the hill and started down the other side. Alex laughed, and Remus groaned.

"Don't you dare…" the young man said, but Alex was already talking, completely ignoring Remus's death glares over his shoulder.

"Well, my friend," Alex said, rubbing his hands together gleefully, "in order to fully explain the meaning of _Kólos_, I must tell you one of my _favorite _stories about young Remus here."

The poor man groaned again, but Alice could see his mouth quirking upward in a smile as he gingerly descended the slope. Alex continued, his voice almost drowning out the sound of the rain.

"It wasn't long after the Rabbit Blasting incident, and Remus had dragged me off to some godforsaken little town in Belarus to talk some angry werewolves into coming down and living not too far away from us. Strength in numbers, and all that. They're doing quite well by the way, Remus, _Darya _sends her _regards_."

Remus's face went bright red, and he mumbled something in Greek that sounded rude. Alex threw his head back and laughed uproariously. The sound echoed through the trees, making the bleak forest seem lively for a moment. Alice spared a second to worry that something might hear them, but realized that Alex and Remus knew better than anyone how to move through this landscape safely. She allowed herself to laugh as well; Alex's enthusiasm was infectious.

"Anyway," the Greek man continued, still chuckling, "there we were, in Belarus in the middle of winter, and it was fucking _cold_. We'd just left the town, when we saw this camp of vampires at the bottom of a valley, about two hundred feet below us. Remus… well, Remus didn't always have the same saintly attitude towards vampires as he does now."

The sandy-haired man snorted.

"I don't have a _saintly attitude_ towards them. I just think some of them aren't that bad."

"Whatever," Alex said, his eyes twinkling fondly at his friend's back. "Regardless of how 22-year old Remus feels about vampires, 19-year old Remus was not a big fan. And so he did the only thing that seemed logical at the time."

The gleeful grin on Alex's face could have lit up an entire room.

"He _mooned_ them."

The Aurors burst out laughing, and the sound of mirth momentarily chased away the cold.

"He showed them his pale, skinny arse, and we had to run pretty fast to get away from them. They were bloody _angry_."

Remus started laughing as well, but stopped abruptly with a pained look, pulling his arm tighter to his ribs. But he turned back for a moment to look at his friend, grinning good-naturedly.

"I can't believe you're exposing me like this, you asshole. I teach their _kids_. I need to maintain some level of decorum."

Alex wrapped his arm around Remus's neck in a loose hug.

"That is something I just can't imagine – _you_ teaching _kids_."

He gripped his friend's shoulder as Remus turned back around to continue down the hill, steadying him yet again when the injured man slipped.

"I'm a _good_ teacher!" Remus protested.

"I'm sure you are, _Kólos_," Alex said. "I've just seen you snoring under too many pub tables. If I saw you in dress robes in front of a class of eager teenagers, I think I'd die of laughter."

The Aurors exchanged amused glances. They had learned more about Remus in the past twenty minutes than they had in the six years since they first met him.

"To answer your question, Sirius," Alex said over his shoulder, "_Kólos_ means… well, technically it means _ass_ or _bum_ but in context… help me out Remus, what's an equivalent in English?"

The young man shrugged.

"Somebody who moons? Mooner? Moony?"

"Moony!" Alex cried. "I like it. Very appropriate for a werewolf. I think that's going to stick."

Remus groaned again, and his companions laughed.

"Moony, Moony, Moony…" Alex sing-songed.

"What have I done?" Remus lamented.

"How long have you two known each other?" Frank asked, finally stepping into the semi-forbidden territory of asking Eastern Europeans about their personal lives. There was a very short silence, but Alex filled it quickly, sallying forth with determined good nature.

"Almost eight years. He was fifteen, I was sixteen. Hard to believe it's been that long, eh Moony?"

Remus grunted, but didn't reply. It was hard to tell whether it was the topic of conversation, or a steadily growing amount of pain, but whatever the reason, he returned to silence, leaving Alex to talk to the Aurors.

Alex was one of the most open people Alice had ever met in Eastern Europe. Most of the individuals they encountered wouldn't string three words together. But Alex was a remarkably upbeat, optimistic young man. Over the next half hour, they learned quite a bit about him. He was actually only half Greek; his mother, who was back in Tervel as well, was a British werewolf from Cornwall, which explained his impeccable English. He had two younger sisters, both of whom were apparently head over heels in love with Remus (the young man blushed fiercely once again at this). And he had never been to Britain, having spent his entire life in Greece and Bulgaria. This was actually incredibly important, he told them, because it meant that he had never been branded.

He was just about to start telling them about why his family had left Greece when suddenly, both werewolves stopped in their tracks. James, Sirius, Frank and Alice came to a halt several seconds later, looking at them in confusion. The young men were frozen, their nostrils flaring and their eyes wide and alert.

"_Vampires_," Remus hissed. "And they've just eaten."

Alice's heartrate skyrocketed. They weren't that far away from the edge of the anti-Apparition zone, but now was far from an ideal time to encounter a group of potentially dangerous vampires. Remus was badly hurt and not terribly mobile, and the rest of them were cold and exhausted.

"_Get down_," Alex breathed, and he and Remus pulled them into the undergrowth, disregarding the wet leaves and mud puddles. They were going to be quite the sight by the time they got back to England.

They huddled on the soaked ground, bodies pressed together, hardly daring to breath. Alice could tell that the two young werewolves could hear the vampires already, but it took a minute before she, too, could hear cold, sinister voices echoing through the trees.

"I'm still hungry," wheedled a male voice.

A bored-sounding woman answered him. "You're _always_ hungry, Rasmus."

"That was hardly even a _snack_! One centaur between all six of us is pathetic."

"Quit whining and make yourself useful," hissed an older sounding man. "If we find Tervel, then Barrett will reward us with all the fresh blood we want. So shut up and _look_."

Alice, wedged between Remus and Alex, felt them both stiffen. Barrett. Tom Barrett. The rumoured leader of HAWE. The vampires had sold out for blood. And they were searching for Alex's village.

"Children, _children_. There is no need for such rudeness. When we find Tervel, we will _all_ feast on the finest vintage of _werewolf._"

A fourth voice rang out, and Alice felt her blood run cold. It was a man speaking, his crisp, strangely accented syllables positively dripping with malice. After only a few words, she knew that his voice would be haunting her dreams for years to come. And suddenly, they had a very big problem.

At the sound of the last voice, Remus's body had jerked violently, and then begun trembling. Alice felt herself being roughly but quietly shoved aside as Alex dove for his friend, clapping his hand over Remus's mouth and wrapping one long, muscular arm around him, forcing him back to his knees before he had even had a chance to rise. Alice watched, horror-stricken, as the two young men struggled, Remus trying to break free of Alex's grip. Alex was whispering fiercely into his friend's ear, obviously trying to reason with him, but Remus's eyes were filled with an anger, an _agony_ that none of the Aurors had ever seen. And Alice suddenly realized that if Remus escaped, he would do everything in his power to _kill_ the owner of that voice.

They needed to get out of there. They needed to get Remus away from whoever that was, before he got them all killed. They were in no shape to fight six vampires, even with magic, and Remus _least _of all.

Alex had obviously reached the same conclusion. His huge frame came in quite handy, as he bodily picked Remus up and backed away from the voices, his hand still clamped over his friend's mouth. He gestured with his eyes for the Aurors to follow him, using brute strength to stifle his captive's attempts to escape. Alice was sure that if Remus had been in better shape, it would have been an evenly matched fight, but as it was she only hoped that his futile struggling wouldn't do even more damage to his broken ribs.

They slipped away as quietly as they could, making a beeline for the edge of the anti-Apparition zone. But who knew how long they had left to go...

Suddenly, Alex slipped in the mud. He kept hold of his struggling charge, but his knee came crashing down on a rotten log with a crunch that echoed loudly through the forest. And the voices – which had just begun to fade into the trees – stopped abruptly.

"_Shit_," Alex hissed. "_Run_."

And they were sprinting through the trees, inhuman cries echoing behind them. Alex threw Remus over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, caution thrown to the wind as they raced for the edge of the anti-Apparition zone. Frank was pulling the Portkey out of his pocket, tapping it frantically with his wand so that it would bring them to the Burrow, where Lily was, instead of to the Ministry. At this point, magic couldn't get them into any deeper shit than they were in already.

Alice could hear impossibly fast footsteps behind them. The vampires were closing in. And then, miraculously, they were back in the clearing where they met Remus that morning, though it seemed like ages ago.

The Aurors gathered around Frank, gripping the Portkey tightly. Sirius turned to Alex, who now held Remus against him with both arms. The young man's struggles had become, if possible, even more violent, and his mouth was no longer covered. He was screaming in Greek, shouting defiantly back in the direction of the vampires.

Sirius grabbed Alex tightly by the shirt collar, and Frank tapped the Portkey once. And as Alice felt the familiar tug at her navel, she looked back up to see a tall, thin vampire sprinting towards them. He had long blond hair tied up in a ponytail, impossibly high cheekbones that were spattered with someone else's blood, and pale blue eyes that held the promise of death. And with Remus's tortured cries echoing in their minds, the Portkey jerked them away from Bulgaria, spinning them through space until they landed in a heap on the lawn outside the Burrow, under a hot British sun.

**Thank you so much for the reviews, it's so fun to write this story for you guys!**


	20. Chapter 19

Tonks wasn't sulking. She _wasn't_. She was just… annoyed. Still. Almost three months later.

Remus had managed to almost completely avoid her during the last weeks of school. He had worked entirely with other students during the night practice sessions, he had stiffly called her 'Miss Tonks' in class, and whenever she tried to initiate a conversation with him, he would suddenly remember that the grindylows needed feeding, and race off. It was infuriating. She knew that boys her own age were immature, but it was disconcerting to learn that men in their twenties could be just as idiotic.

She hadn't told a single person about Remus's slightly drunken actions that night, or what he had accidentally let slip about his family. It was too personal, too… _raw_. Her friends – Clarence and Terry especially – had noticed that something was bothering her, but she had avoided their questions. The only person she _really_ wanted to talk to had disappeared only minutes after graduation, and she hadn't seen him since. Damn Lupin.

June had seemed to stretch on interminably, with nothing much to distract her from what she refused to identify as moping. She had moved into a tiny flat in Covent Garden, not too far away from the Ministry, and prepared herself for the first of July, trying not to think about the man who had taught her all the spells and exercises she practiced daily to stay sharp.

Thankfully, the beginning of Auror Training had almost entirely occupied her mind. Alastor Moody was a brutal taskmaster, and he and the other Auror instructors pushed them almost as hard as Professor Lupin had, all day, every day. Every night for the past four weeks she had barely had the energy to take off her shoes before collapsing into bed, let alone dwell on the whole Remus issue.

Unfortunately, there had already been several moments at the Ministry when she had been painfully reminded of him. Moody had kindly made a huge fuss so that she didn't have to wear the bright red 'Metamorphmagus' badge everywhere she went. But every time she walked through the scanners at the Ministry entrances, she thought of Remus. Every time one of her fellow Auror cadets from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons made some bigoted comment about Dark Creatures, she and the other Hogwarts graduates tensed with anger and tried to subtly argue the point, with extremely limited success. And finally, about two weeks after the start of training, she encountered her first branded werewolf.

She had been walking across the main atrium, heading to lunch with Clarence, Terry, and Dennis Arthur, who had joined them from the Daily Prophet building in Diagon Alley. Terry had been giving them the rundown on his love life, regaling them with his failed attempts to impress one of the Durmstrang boys in the cadet year above them, when a loud commotion broke out around one of the many Floos that lined the hall. Curiosity getting the better of them, the four teenagers pushed their way through the midday bustle to see what was the matter. The scene that greeted them made Tonks lose her appetite immediately.

Three huge, muscular men were pinning down a fourth man, pressing his face cruelly into the stone floor. The captive was painfully thin, and wore a threadbare t-shirt and trousers that were made up of more patches than original material. He struggled weakly, and one of the burly men grabbed his mop of graying hair and slammed his head against the ground brutally. Tonks flinched, and heard Clarence gasp beside her. The man's face was now turned towards them, and Tonks stared at him in horror.

He appeared to be in his forties, but the lines on his face and the gray streaks in his brown hair looked more like products of a hard life, rather than aging. A vivid scar ran down his face, from his hairline to his chin, running across an eye that had obviously been destroyed in its path. His other eye was tightly shut, and Tonks could see a small amount of blood gathering under his forehead where it had met the stone floor. But Tonks barely registered any of this. Her eyes were transfixed by the brand snaking its way up the side of his neck, large black symbols standing out starkly against pale skin. _RWW2336_. Registered Werewolf 2336.

The men holding him down were wearing the unmistakable combat pants and tight-fitting shirts of the Werewolf Capture Unit. A silver WCU was proudly emblazoned above their hearts, and they wore sturdy belts with holsters for an array of weapons. Tonks felt her mouth go dry when one of the men pulled a large silver pistol from his belt, holding it against the side of the werewolf's head. The struggling man went very still.

"Don't think I won't put a silver bullet in your brain, _wolf_."

Tonks couldn't breathe. She looked around desperately, searching for someone, _anyone_ who had the authority to _do something_. But apart from her and her friends, nobody else even seemed to notice what was going on. Witches and wizards in Ministry robes walked right past the horrifying scene without sparing it more than a cursory glance. Was this _normal_? Did this happen _all the time_?

"Oy! Leave him alone!"

Tonks turned back to see that Terry had taken a step forward, his fists clenched in fury. The three men looked up, narrowing their eyes incredulously at the short young man.

"Who the _fuck _are you?" the gun wielder spat. "Get out of here kid, we're a little _busy_, in case you haven't noticed."

Tonks stepped up next to Terry, feeling the other two join them only a second later.

"What gives you the right to treat him like that?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady, though she could feel her heart almost beating a hole through her chest. "You can't point a gun at his head! Even if he's committed a crime, he needs a fair trial! And the death penalty was abolished _a hundred years ago_!"

The three men gaped at her. And then, suddenly, they started to laugh uncontrollably, looking at each other like they had never heard such ridiculous words in their lives. The man holding the gun shook his head incredulously.

"Where does Moody _find_ these people?" he asked his companions, who shrugged, still chuckling. They proceeded to handcuff the prone werewolf, completely ignoring the four teenagers standing beside them.

"I'm _serious_!" Tonks cried out, desperation seeping into her tone. They couldn't treat a living being like this, they just _couldn't_. "You can't do this!"

To her surprise, the man finally pulled the gun away from the werewolf's forehead. But before she could feel any sense of victory, the man stood and stalked towards her, holding the gun at his side and fixing her with a deadly glare. His eyes were gray and cruel, and as he came to a stop right in front of her, she realized with dismay just how _huge_ he was. He was easily a foot and a half taller than she was, and his biceps were bigger than her entire torso. But she forced herself to hold her ground, feeling her friends tense beside her.

The man bent down, his face only inches from hers, leering at her unpleasantly.

"Listen, _girly_," he snarled. His breath smelled foul. "That piece of _shit_ on the ground is a _werewolf_. A werewolf who was working _illegally_. That gives me the right to do _whatever I want_ with him. I could put a bullet through his skull _right now_, and it might even get me a raise. Tell me what I can't do again, and I'll _do_ it, just to prove that I _can_."

He smirked at her, knowing that he had won. Tonks could feel tears of fury threatening at the edges of her eyes, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her cry. Finally, with one last cruel look, the huge man turned away, striding back to his companions. He grabbed the werewolf's shirt and jerked him to his feet, practically lifting the emaciated man into the air. They began to frogmarch him in the direction of the Department of Magical Creatures, and the four teenagers watched them helplessly.

As they passed, Tonks saw the werewolf raise his head slightly to look at her with his one good eye. It was a deep, vivid blue; the most beautiful color that she had ever seen. Fear, anger, desperation, and utter _despair _rolled off him in waves. But for a split second, Tonks swore that she could see a tiny glimmer of gratitude in those blue eyes, the smallest flicker of hope. Someone had _cared_. Someone had _noticed_. And she realized that what they had tried to do had not been entirely in vain.

The four teenagers had walked to the Leaky Cauldron in a daze. None of them had been in any mood to eat, and so they sat in a corner booth, gripping mugs of Butterbeer tightly, silent as the grave. Tonks knew that she was not the only one who was replaying the scene in her head over and over again, unconsciously replacing the forty-year old she had never met with a hazel-eyed young man…

Two weeks later, she still couldn't get the image out of her head. Remus being pinned to the ground beneath three huge men who wanted him dead. Remus's blood staining the Ministry floor. Remus being dragged away, looking back at her with eyes full of fear and despair…

The images were playing across her closed eyelids even now, warring with her annoyance with the man in question, as she lay on a towel on the lawn outside the Burrow, sunbathing with Hermione and Hannah. It was her first weekend off since she had started training, and tomorrow was Harry's birthday. Harry and Neville always had a combined party, which had turned into a rather large event over the years. It was really just an excuse for the former Order members and their families to have a raging piss up, still celebrating their freedom from war and fear.

It was barely five in the afternoon, but the adults had already cracked open the beers. Frank, Alice, James, and Sirius were off on a mission, but they were expected back at any moment. Fabian and Gideon had fired up the grill, insisting that barbecues were always better the Muggle way. There was a Quidditch game raging a little ways off, the sound of good-natured yelling echoing in the warm evening air. With all the Weasley and Prewett boys present, along with Harry, Neville, Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Ginny, there were enough people to play a full game, and the competition had been going on for hours. Tonks would usually have been right up there with them, but Mad-Eye had put them through an obstacle course yesterday that had left her feeling like she'd been run over by a herd of centaurs. So she lay inert on the ground, wearing a bikini for the first time since last summer, letting the sun soak into her pale skin. She could feel herself starting to burn. Groaning, she reluctantly sat up and reached for Hermione's sunscreen. Of course Hermione would be the one to remember sunscreen.

The peaceful calm of the evening was violently shattered by the unmistakable crack of a long-distance Portkey, and the sound of a man screaming hoarsely in a language she didn't recognize. Tonks looked up in alarm.

Six people had appeared on the lawn, not too far away from where she and the other girls were sitting. Tonks recognized four of them instantly, though they were covered in so much mud and filth that she would have laughed if they hadn't looked so terrified. James, Sirius, Frank, and Alice were white as ghosts, looking like they had been to hell and back. They were clad in Muggle hiking gear, large packs hanging loosely on their backs. But it was their two companions who drew Tonks's attention.

One of the men was – to put it bluntly – the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. Even through the mud that stained his clothes and face, she could see that he was jaw-droppingly handsome. His features were foreign, his skin a darker shade than was common in Britain, and his tall frame was filled out and muscular. It looked like he was using every one of those muscles to restrain the second man, who was struggling violently in his arms.

Tonks stared uncomprehendingly at the second man. He was impossibly thin, with a long mop of wild sandy hair that obscured much of his features. His chin was covered in an untrimmed beard, and he wore frayed khaki trousers and a torn shirt that was soaked through with mud. He looked like a wild man, and the fact that he was still screaming in some strange language only completed the image.

The large, beautiful man was yelling too, obviously trying to calm his friend down. Finally, he threw him to the ground, holding his hands out placatingly as the thin man whirled around to face him.

"_Kólos, listen_ to me!" the larger man cried, his desperate voice accented in a similar manner to Remus's. "You're safe, we're _all_ safe! He's _gone_!"

"I _know_ he's gone, _send me back_!"

Tonks's heart almost stopped. She knew that voice. She _knew_ that voice. She had never heard it raised in such anger, such fierce desperation. But she knew who it belonged to. She rose to her feet, looking at the wild man with dawning horror.

"Get out of my_ way, _Alex_!_"

The wild man made a dive for the Portkey, abandoned on the ground before the four Aurors, who were staring at the two young men helplessly. But the taller man – Alex – grabbed his friend by the shirt collar and threw him back.

"_No_, Remus!"

Tonks brought her hand to her mouth, almost sobbing in confusion and shock. She could hear the girls next to her gasping, and saw out of the corner of her eye that the Quidditch players had noticed what was going on and returned to the ground, and now stood watching the altercation in horror. _This_ was Professor Lupin? This feral-looking man who was struggling back to his feet with the look of someone who was badly hurt but refused to surrender?

The two young men were entirely unaware that they had an audience, too wrapped up in their confrontation. Alex was staring at Remus determinedly.

"I'm _not _letting you go back there! If I have to break the rest of your ribs to stop you, then I _will_!"

"Don't make me hurt you, Alex," Remus growled warningly. But Alex stood his ground between his friend and the Portkey, crouching defensively.

Tonks gaped as Remus – injured, a foot shorter, and a good hundred pounds lighter than his opponent – launched himself at Alex. She thought she had seen him fight dirty, but everything he'd taught them paled in comparison to _this_. The two young men grappled in the fastest, most brutally skillful fight she had ever seen. Physical blows were interspersed with bursts of wandless magic – non-deadly spells that were expertly blocked. These were two people who relied on their combat skills to survive.

The fight seemed to last for an age, and Tonks felt her body tensing, willing herself to do _something_ to stop it. But after what was probably only a minute or so, Remus's physical condition finally caught up with him. Alex managed to grab him in a chokehold that he couldn't escape, and the larger man slammed him to the ground, his back hitting the grass with a painful thud. An agonized cry tore from Remus's mouth, and Tonks's heart clenched in fear.

Alex released his friend immediately, stepping away with a pained look on his face. Remus remained on the ground, moving his hand weakly to his ribs and coughing violently. Blood stained the grass near his mouth. Alice gave a muted cry of concern and started forward, but Alex stopped her with an extended hand and a shake of his head. Tonks wanted to scream at him. Couldn't he see that Remus needed _help_?

But the wild-looking young man was already struggling to sit up. His hair had fallen back, and for the first time since they had arrived, Tonks could see his face clearly. His eyes were fixed angrily on Alex.

"_Fuck you_, Alex."

"Serves you right, asshole," Alex replied, though his tone lacked the bite that usually accompanied such words. "You almost got us all _killed_ back there."

"How can you just _stand there_?" Remus asked, his voice shaking with intensity. "Nyström is on his way to _your village_, you should be taking that Portkey back _with me_!"

"_If_ Nyström and his incompetent cronies manage to find Tervel, they're going to get a much bigger fight than they were expecting," Alex said with forced calm. "I'm not _worried_ about Tervel, I'm worried about _you_. I'm worried about how you don't even seem to _realize_ that he would have _killed you_! He would have _ripped you to pieces_!"

"_WHO GIVES A FUCK_?"

The cry reverberated in the summer air. Alex stared blankly at Remus for a moment, then gradually started to look like he was going to be sick. Tonks definitely felt like she was going to be sick.

Alex took two steps forward and reached down, grabbing the front of Remus's shirt and yanking him roughly to his feet. He pulled his friend close, practically holding the smaller man off the ground.

"I don't want to hear you say _anything _like that _ever again_," he said, his voice shaking with quiet intensity. "Do you hear me?"

He shook Remus slightly. The young man just glared at him.

"What would Diana and Lyall say? What would _Romulus_ say if he heard you talking like that?"

"I don't _know_, do I?" Remus burst out angrily, despairingly. "I don't fucking _know_ what they would say! They're _dead_! And I've got _Nystr__öm_ to thank for that!"

The silence was deafening. Tonks could barely breathe. She suddenly realized that every single person at the Burrow had by now heard the commotion, and was now standing around her, helplessly watching the drama unfold.

Alex slowly released Remus, watching with incredibly sad eyes as his friend wavered on his feet.

"I know what they would say, Remus," he said quietly. "They would call you a _bloody idiot_. Diana would scream at you and ask you why you were throwing your life away. Lyall would shake his head in disappointment. And _Romulus_…"

Alex chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"Romulus would string you up by your ears until you promised to _stop being such a bloody martyr_."

And finally, at long last, the fight seemed to drain out of Remus Lupin. He dropped his fierce gaze, lowering his head slightly. He brought a shaking hand up to his mouth, wiping away the blood that stained his lips. He swayed on his feet, and Alex reached up to grasp his arm, holding him steady. The taller man ducked his head to meet his friend's eyes.

"Look at me, Remus."

Slowly, the young man looked back up. His eyes – full of anger and determination only seconds before – were now pools of grief, and he struggled for breath through broken ribs and swirling emotions.

"We _need _you, Moony," Alex said, and a corner of Tonks's mind chuckled at the apropos nickname. "You're one of the only voices of reason we _have_. If _you_ can't move past what happened, if _you_ start taking revenge on the people who killed your family… what hope is there for the rest of us?"

Remus's hazel eyes flickered, shining up at Alex hopelessly.

"I can't… I can't do this alone," he whispered brokenly.

"You don't _have_ to, you bloody idiot," Alex said loudly. "You don't _have_ to do it alone. What do you think _I_ am, a pumpkin? My mum and dad? _Everybody_ in Tervel? Bloody hell, Remus, you've got more friends than you'll ever know what to do with. _Let us help you_. Stop running yourself ragged, and just accept that there are people in the world who _care_ about you. For Merlin's sake, Remus, you're practically my brother. I want you to be _alive_, and _healthy_. Dammit mate, I want you to be _happy_."

And finally, Tonks saw the strongest person she had ever known break down. Alex pulled Remus into a hug, arms wrapping gingerly around his friend as the young man's shoulders shook with silent sobs. Alex rested his chin on the sandy-haired head, his eyes shining with restrained tears. He looked around, and his eyes widened as he finally realized that they had an audience. He glanced down at Remus, suddenly looking very worried.

Remus pulled back, wiping a shaking hand down his face. He was an absolute mess, but given everything they had just heard, Tonks highly doubted that anyone was judging him for it. He coughed again, his face pulling into a grimace, and Alex caught him as his knees buckled.

"Alice!" Alex cried, and Neville's mother leapt forward, looking like she had been counting the seconds to when she would be allowed to tend to the injured young man.

"Lily, bring your med kit!" she yelled to the red-haired woman who now stood next to Hannah, gripping her daughter's shoulder tightly. "He got kicked in the chest by a centaur, and I don't know how much damage has been done since then. We can't bring him to the hospital, and you're the next best thing, _hurry_!"

Lily raced back to the house, raising her wand to summon the med kit she brought everywhere. And as Alex slowly lowered Remus to his knees, the young man finally looked up to see the crowd of people who had witnessed his meltdown.

Tonks didn't think her heart could hurt any more. But seeing the look on his face, the sheer _vulnerability_ in his eyes as he looked around at the students and strangers who now knew more about him than he had ever wanted to share… She felt tears streaming down her face as she started forward, with no idea of what she was planning to do. His eyes swung to meet hers, and she stopped abruptly as his face shut down, his eyes closing tightly as though he were hoping it was all a dream. And then he was coughing blood, Alex was shouting his name desperately, and Tonks was shoved aside as Lily fell to her knees beside him, gloved hands reaching for her patient.

Once again, there was absolutely _nothing_ Tonks could do.

**Aaaaahhh so much drama! Thank you so much for the reviews, they make me happy :)**


	21. Chapter 20

The kitchen at the Burrow was usually a lively place, full of laughter and barely controlled chaos. But tonight, while evening sunlight streamed through the windows and cast strange shadows across the floor, a tense silence filled the air.

Remus had passed out in Alex's arms, and the young Greek had carried him into the house under the watchful eyes of Lily and Alice. The two women had designated the sitting room as their impromptu hospital, and had shooed everyone out of the room as they set about the daunting task of piecing the broken man back together. The children – who were understandably upset, and wanted to know if their favorite professor was going to be alright – were herded back outside by a flustered Molly Weasley, who had never met Remus Lupin, and was entirely unenthusiastic about having not just one, but _two_ violent werewolves under her roof.

The adults had instinctively gathered in the kitchen, which had been the scene of many Order meetings in past years. Fabian and Gideon leaned against the counter, their arms across their chests in identical postures of tense confusion. Sirius held Marlene against him, obviously still shaken by what they had seen in Bulgaria, and the confrontation they had just witnessed. James and Frank collapsed into chairs on one end of the kitchen table, while Arthur sank onto the lumpy couch near the fireplace. Molly hadn't managed to evict Bill, Charlie, or Tonks, and the three young adults leaned awkwardly against the wall. Severus, who had only just arrived when the drama began, simply stood, his hands in his pockets. All of them stared silently at the large young man who hovered in the doorway, looking extremely uncomfortable. He was still soaking wet, and a small amount of Remus's blood stained the front of his shirt.

The tense silence was broken by Molly, who bustled back into the kitchen, giving Alex a wide berth.

"Well, I don't know about you all, but _I _could use a cup of tea after all that excitement," she said, desperately grasping for some kind of normality. "Anyone else? Fay? Gideon? James?"

She looked around the room as people nodded dumbly, and almost squeaked in fear when she finally made eye contact with Alex. The man looked at her in utter confusion as she turned abruptly and gave the kettle such a hard rap with her wand that it almost burst into flame.

"Earl Grey? Jasmine? Chamomile? I think chamomile is just the ticket, a nice, calming flavor – "

"Molly."

James's quiet, authoritative voice broke through her nervous rambling.

"It's alright. Alex is a friend. He probably saved our lives tonight. You can _trust_ him."

She turned around, desperately trying to calm herself, but the familiar hysteria was taking control. It had been bad enough when James had told her that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. A Dark Creature, teaching her children? In _close contact_ with her babies? Logically, she knew that it was not the man's fault. Lycanthropy wasn't something he had _asked_ for, wasn't something he could _control_. She knew that he was a good man, had heard it directly from her own friends' mouths. And when her children had come back from Hogwarts raving about him, inspired and invigorated by his teaching…

But the unconscious man in her sitting room was almost _feral_. She had watched him fight with another werewolf, and she had seen death in his eyes. She couldn't deny that she felt some pity for the poor soul – his family was dead, after all. But that didn't mean she wanted him anywhere _near_ the people she loved.

"Well maybe I can trust _him!_" she cried, pointing at the dripping young man standing in the doorway. "But what about _Lupin_? He could have gotten you all killed! Not to mention that he put all the children at risk when he started that _battle_ out on the lawn! One of their spells could have gone _anywhere_! He's _unstable_, James, and I don't want him near my children."

Almost everyone in the room tensed, and she suddenly remembered that she was one of the few people present who didn't know Remus personally. Almost everyone else had worked with him, been taught by him, been through hell with him. And she was struck by how they all became immediately defensive.

"Molly, you have to understand…"

"He's not normally like that…"

"He's not _unstable_…!"

Everyone was speaking at once, but one baritone voice rang out above the rest, a slight Greek accent bringing it to the foreground.

"Remus is the _best man I've ever known_."

Silence fell as everyone turned to look at Alex. He was breathing heavily, his eyes flashing as he looked at Molly, who quailed slightly under his gaze.

"He's a better man than I'll ever be," Alex said softly. "If _I_ had been within twenty feet of the person who betrayed my family and my entire village to Tom Barrett and the rest of those HAWE _bastards_… _nobody_ would have been able to talk me out of trying to kill them. Sveinn Nyström as good as murdered _every single person_ Remus loved. The fact that he was even willing to _listen_ to me, the fact that he didn't just blow me away with wandless magic – because he _could_ have, believe me… that's a testament to his character. Don't stand there and act like you know _anything_ about my best friend, or what he's been through."

Alex was still breathing heavily, looking quite upset. His words had stunned the kitchen into silence, and Molly stared at him, open-mouthed. He couldn't be much older than Bill, she realized. Remus was probably a similar age, if not younger. The idea of _Bill_ living in Eastern Europe, in constant danger, fighting a hopeless war with no allies, losing the people he loved… well, it was upsetting, to say the least.

She cleared her throat, breaking the stunned silence.

"Do you… do you want any tea, dear?" she asked tentatively, looking at Alex with what she hoped was an apologetic smile. He looked taken aback.

"Ah… okay?" he said, obviously confused by her abrupt change of face.

"Come in, come in," she said, gesturing him out of the doorway. She dried his clothes with an expert flick of her wand, and beckoned for him to take a seat. He slowly complied, staring at her with wide eyes. She turned back to the cupboards, rummaging for tealeaves.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said over her shoulder. "It's just… I've never met Remus before, and seeing him like that was rather a…

"A shock?" Sirius finished for her. "It was a shock for us all, I've _never_ seen him like that."

He sat down next to James and leaned forward across the kitchen table, looking at Alex intently.

"So that blond asshole back there was Sveinn Nyström, eh? He's a real person, not just a ghost story?"

Alex looked confused.

"A ghost story? I don't understand."

James shook his head.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter. Remus made a good point, Alex. They were looking for Tervel, do you need us to come back with you? We're not allowed to intervene as Aurors, but maybe we could call it a mission for the Order…"

But Alex was shaking his head. "No, they'll never find Tervel. You probably didn't notice, cause you were just following Moony and me, but it's very well hidden. We were a good three hours out when we saw them, and they're not used to navigating that kind of terrain. Besides, even if they _do_ manage to reach Tervel, all they're going to find is about fifty other people who want to kill them almost as much as Remus does. We're not as disorganized and helpless as we used to be. And that's thanks to Moony, for the most part."

James nodded, then seemed to hesitate, his mouth opening and closing before finally, he spoke.

"Alex… I know that Remus is a very private person. I know he doesn't like talking about his past, and I know that what just happened is going to cause him a lot of pain. But you have to understand – we've known him for a long time. Almost six years. At least, a lot of us have. He's even _taught_ some of us."

James gestured to Tonks, and Alex glanced over at her curiously. She flushed slightly at the attention. James continued.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is… we _care_ about him. Just like you said earlier, we want him to be happy, and healthy. And we want to _help_ him."

Alex gave him a small smile. He glanced around the room, his smile widening slightly as people nodded in agreement. But James wasn't finished yet.

"But Alex, honestly, before today, we barely knew _anything_ about Remus. He's an incredible kid, but bloody hell, he does _not_ let people in. We want to help him, but how can we? How do we do that, if we don't even know what he's been through? Of course we have a vague idea of it now, but he obviously doesn't want to talk about it."

"No, he doesn't," Alex interjected. "He's never even told _me_ everything that happened that night, everything that's happened to him since then. He keeps it all bottled up, and today he finally exploded. Frankly, I'm amazed it's never happened before."

Frank leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"Alex…" he said softly. "What… what was the name of Remus's village?"

There was an incredibly long silence. Nobody breathed. Everyone stared at Alex, who was looking back at Frank with an impossibly sad gaze.

Surprisingly, it was Severus who broke the silence. He cleared his throat abruptly.

"I think that's a question we should leave for Lupin to answer, Longbottom. We've already been privy to too many of his memories, without his permission. Don't you think he deserves some agency over what we know about him?"

Nobody had a chance to respond to Snape's question, because at that moment, Lily swept into the room, removing bloodstained gloves and looking incredibly upset. Alex leapt to his feet, almost sending the mug of tea that Molly had set down in front of him flying.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked, and everyone could hear the desperate worry in his voice. Lily glared up at him, her hands on her hips.

"_What_ in the name of Merlin _happened_ to that boy?" she cried, looking like she was on the verge of tears. Alex looked momentarily confused.

"A – um – a centaur kicked him…"

"I'm not _talking_ about the bloody centaur!" the red-haired witch shouted. "That was _easy_ to fix – well, relatively. I'm talking about the fact that he's got bloody _nerve damage_ like I haven't seen since the War! Somebody put him under the Cruciatus for so long, his nerves are almost _fried_."

She paused for breath, and everyone – including Alex – stared at her in shocked horror. But she was not done. She continued, her voice quivering with emotion.

"You know what's sad, is that it's actually a _good_ thing in a way. Otherwise, he would have been in way too much pain to even _think_ about hiking out of that anti-Apparition zone. You know he was _this close_ to puncturing a lung?"

She held her thumb and forefinger barely a millimeter apart, and Alex looked suddenly nauseous.

"But that isn't even the _worst _of it!" Lily said, obviously much too upset to remember that she really shouldn't be telling so many people about her patient's condition. She took a step forward, looking up at Alex angrily.

"Who did it to him?" she hissed. "Who tried to bash his head in with a bloody _rock_? Because I swear to Merlin, I will find them myself, and I will drag them to Azkaban where they _belong_. He's got serious brain damage that was _never healed_, who did it to him?!"

At some point during her rant, James had leapt to his feet and moved to his wife's side.

"Lily, Lils, calm down," he beseeched, putting a hand on her arm.

"I will _not _calm down!" she cried, shaking him off. "You know how old these injuries are? You know how old Remus _was_ when someone tortured him and then tried to kill him? He was _thirteen_, James! _Thirteen_! That's _Harry's_ age! Bloody hell, come tomorrow, that'll be _younger_ than Harry!"

The silence that followed her outburst was truly awful. Nobody spoke, nobody breathed, nobody moved until, with a grief-stricken moan, Alex sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

"So much for giving Remus agency over his own past…" Severus muttered, though his tone was stunned and his eyes were haunted. Sirius was looking at Alex in utter confusion.

"But… you said you met Remus when he was _fifteen_," he said quietly, and Alex looked up, his eyes shining with tears. "And you knew his family. How… did his _family_ do that to him?"

Alex's face darkened immediately.

"They would _never_ have done something like that to _anyone_. Diana and Lyall Lupin were the kindest, gentlest people I've ever met. And Romulus was the most protective big brother in the world."

"Then _how did it happen_?" Lily asked plaintively, her mothering instincts almost overwhelmed by the idea of a boy her own son's age experiencing such violence. Alex shook his head, staring resolutely at the wooden tabletop.

"The Lupins… they weren't Remus's birth parents. They adopted him. I never got the full story, all I know is that Remus was one of _thousands_ of war orphans in eastern Europe. Diana and Lyall had moved from England during the War, in order to protect Romulus, who was bitten by Greyback."

He finally looked up, stricken blue eyes finding Lily's.

"Remus doesn't remember _anything_ from his early childhood. Not his birth parents, not his name, not even the language he grew up speaking. I always rather envied him for that… he doesn't have any memories of the War, like the rest of us do."

The young man paused, running a hand through his hair in a manner that reminded them all of Remus. His face was haunted, and a shiver ran through the room as everyone came face to face with the cold fact that both of these young men had been fully immersed in the horror of war when they were mere _children_.

"I doubt he would have any idea who did this to him. And I don't think he'd want to talk about it _at all_," Alex continued, and to their surprise, he chuckled darkly. "Yet another thing he doesn't talk about. Once, when he was pretty drunk, he told me that he sometimes has dreams that seem… too _real_ to just be dreams. I asked him what they were about and he… he just shut down. I've never seen him look so scared in my life."

Alex ran a shaking hand across his mouth, then looked back up at Lily.

"Can you do anything? To heal him, I mean? Can the nerve damage be fixed?"

Lily sighed. "I can try to do some nerve regeneration. There's a potion that will help, I need to get it from St. Mungo's. It should restore more feeling to his body, I'm sure that everything has always felt pretty numb to him. I'm sure that's helpful in some respects but… he probably loses the good feelings along with the bad."

She sighed again, looking weary. "As for his head… he's lucky that it only seems to affect his memory. It could have been much worse. At this point, I can't do much about the actual injury, but I suppose if we got a good Legilimens, they might be able to help restore some of his memories…"

"_No!_"

Alex's cry cut her off abruptly. He grimaced.

"Sorry, it's just… I don't think that would help. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Remus has _no _interest in regaining his memories. He's got enough nightmares as it is, he doesn't need any more."

The room fell into uncomfortable silence. Many people looked like they wanted to ask questions, wanted to offer words of comfort to the young man hunched miserably at the kitchen table. But what could they say? What could they possibly offer that would make things any better?

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Alex rose to his feet.

"Can I see him? Is he awake?"

Lily shook her head.

"We kept him under, I gave him a Dreamless Sleep Potion. Alice is still with him. You can come sit with him if you like."

Alex nodded, then turned to James, Sirius, and Frank.

"I'll have to head back soon, Mum and Dad will start to worry. I'll tell everyone what happened."

The three Aurors rose as well, and Sirius looked at Alex in concern. The young man looked tired, worn, and depressed.

"Are you sure you want to head back tonight? I don't like the idea of you going out there alone, with those vampires roaming around. You can come stay at my house in London."

Molly shot him a glare.

"You don't have to drag him all the way back to London. Alex, you're more than welcome to stay here, we were just about to have dinner."

The change in her demeanour since she had first entered the kitchen was astounding. She looked at Alex with a kind smile, and he returned it uncertainly.

"Th-thank you," he stammered, looking overwhelmed by the concern these near strangers were showing. "I appreciate the offers, I really do. But if I don't get back soon, they'll organize a search party to look for us, and then my mum will _really_ have my hide."

He made to leave the room, but immediately turned back, remembering something.

"Moony… Moony will probably be on his feet by tomorrow, raring to go. He won't be fully healed though, he'll just _pretend_ he is. If there's _any way_ you all can keep him here, even if it's just for one day… I _hate_ seeing him run himself into the ground, we all do."

James stepped forward and grasped Alex's shoulder.

"We'll do everything we can, mate," he said. "You be careful out there, alright?"

Alex nodded. "Will do."

He cleared his throat, and shot a look at Lily, who was standing behind James.

"_Thank_ _you._ I don't know what we would have done without you all. We don't have any fully trained Healers, Moony might not have made it... He's a lucky man, with friends like you."

James smiled at him.

"He was already pretty damn lucky in the friend department. Not many men would be able, or even _willing_ to do what you did for him tonight."

Alex looked down at the floor, his dark brown hair falling over his eyes.

"He's saved _my _life – and the lives of people I love – more times than I can count. He deserves everything I can give him."

James's hold on the young man's shoulder tightened.

"Alex, you're _not alone_ anymore. We – at least everyone in this room, and quite a few people who aren't here right now – are going to do everything we can to help you all _fix_ this mess. HAWE is _not_ going to win, they are _not_ going to get away with all the horrible things they've done. Let us know when the next DCEF meeting is, we'll be there."

Alex smiled, his eyes shining as he looked at James gratefully. With a final nod, he left the room, Lily following close behind him.

The kitchen descended once again into silence as those left behind contemplated everything they had learned. The former members of the Order of the Phoenix, and the three oldest members of the next generation looked around at each other in exhausted horror.

"Well, what do we do now?" Molly asked, looking instinctively at James, who seemed to know Remus the best. The black-haired man turned to her, his eyes determined.

"We show Remus that we care," he said. "We make it clear to him that we want to help, that we're _going_ to help. He doesn't need our pity, he needs our _support_. And we're going to give it to him, whether he knows he needs it or not."

* * *

**A/N: Oh my goodness, things are getting complicated. Whaddaya think? Thanks so much for the reviews!**


	22. Chapter 21

We are in deep shit.

_Those words echoed again and again through Sirius's mind as he and James crept down the darkened corridor, their only guide the small boy slinking through the shadows ahead of them. The child was a stranger – wild and emaciated – and barely looked old enough to attend Hogwarts, let alone break two captured members of the Order of the Phoenix out of the dungeon of Voldemort's stronghold, deep in the Carpathian Mountains. And yet here they were, following him blindly, painfully aware that he was their only hope of survival._

_It was only James's second mission since he came out of hiding. The Potter family had been holed up in Godric's Hollow for more than a year, and by the time Lily got pregnant again, James was thoroughly fed up with letting his friends fight the War alone. He had to do his part to make the world safe for his children, and so with many resigned tears, he had departed, returning to the struggle. Dumbledore, the Potter's Secret Keeper, had arranged for Lily and Harry to be moved to another location, accompanied by Marlene, who was still recovering from injuries sustained at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Neither James nor Sirius knew where their loved ones were, and for that they were grateful, for it meant that no matter how much Voldemort tortured them, they would never be able to give him their location. And oh, he had tortured them. Sirius's limbs shook with numb exhaustion, still recovering from the onslaught of Crucios they had endured over the past two days since their capture in London._

_When the boy appeared at the door of their cell, Sirius had thought he was hallucinating. What other explanation was there? Ten-year olds didn't just hang out in Voldemort's secret headquarters, no matter how mangy and feral they looked. But then the kid had opened the door with a wave of his hand, and gestured frantically for them to follow him. Sirius and James looked at each other, wondering if they had finally cracked and gone loopy. The boy made a small noise of impatience, and they scrambled out of the cell. Loopy they may be, but anything was better than just sitting here, waiting to be killed._

_The castle was eerily silent. It was odd, Sirius mused, that there wasn't a _single_ sign of life. He would have thought that Voldemort would have guards roaming around, especially with two such valuable prisoners languishing in the dungeons. But they didn't see or hear a single soul as they made their way through the labyrinth of corridors. The boy moved like a silent wraith ahead of them, his motions confident and assured. He knew exactly where he was leading them. At any other time, Sirius would have been intensely curious about this child, but right now there were bigger things to worry about. Like how exactly they were going to get out of this stone fortress._

_The boy stopped abruptly at a large wooden door. It looked no different than any of the other doors they had passed. But after a quick glance up and down the corridor, the kid rapped on the wood three times with his knuckles. A moment passed, and then the door swung open. And suddenly Sirius knew that he had indeed gone insane. Because the person who held the door open, grinning unabashedly as he gestured them outside into the frigid winter air, could only be a hallucination._

_Regulus Black had grown a lot since the last time Sirius had seen him. In the six years since Sirius had stormed out of his parents' house, his kid brother had transformed from an awkward 15-year old with zits all over his face to a tall, handsome young man. Black hair fell untidily around his face, and gray eyes twinkled above a smile that matched his older brother's exactly. He wore the unmistakable black robes of a Death Eater, and as he held the door open with his left hand, his sleeve fell back just enough to show a glimpse of the Dark Mark tattooed on his forearm._

_Sirius gaped. When he had heard of his brother's inevitable turn to the Death Eaters at age 17, he had been bitterly angry. For him, that had been the first true blow of the War. Little Reg, who had always looked up to him with shining, innocent eyes, who he had taught to fly, who asked him for advice about girls… He was no Death Eater. He had simply loved their mother more than Sirius ever had, and couldn't bring himself to defy her. And so he had fallen into Voldemort's web, and not a day went by that Sirius didn't kick himself for not taking Regulus with him on that fateful day in 1977, when he turned his back on the Black family._

_Sirius had always dreaded meeting Regulus on the field of battle. He knew that he would never be able to raise his wand against his baby brother. But the man in front of them did not look like a hardened Death Eater. He was smiling, and his eyes were shining innocently at Sirius like they always had… _

_ "__Come on, big bro," he said quietly, his voice kind but urgent. "We can't stay here. I'll explain once we're someplace safe."_

_James prodded Sirius in the back, and the two men hastened out the door, stepping into a dark Transylvanian snowstorm. Regulus shut the door quickly behind them and gestured to the boy, who turned and led them swiftly into the forest. Wrapping their tattered robes tightly around themselves, James and Sirius followed him on shaky legs. Regulus brought up the rear, erasing their footprints in the deep snow with his wand._

_For more than an hour, there was no sound except for their harsh breathing and the crunch of snow under their feet. Sirius was absolutely bursting with questions. How had they escaped so easily? Why was Regulus helping them? Who the hell was this kid who seemed to be able to see in the dark, leading them confidently in the pitch black? But he found it hard enough just keeping himself upright and moving forward, and so he remained silent. He could feel the nervous tension coming from their rescuers. They were not out of the woods yet – quite literally. Sirius assumed they must be heading for the edge of an anti-Apparition zone, but how far they had left to go was impossible to say. And Voldemort would discover their escape soon._

_The storm was growing stronger, the wind whipping violently around them as they struggled up another steep incline. Suddenly, Sirius saw James stumble and fall to his knees in front of him._

_ "__James!" he cried, though it came out an exhausted whisper. He struggled forward and grasped his best friend's arm, trying to drag the thin man to his feet. Suddenly, Regulus was on James's other side, helping Sirius lift him._

_ "__We're not going to make it out in this," Regulus said grimly to the boy, his face set in determination as he looped James's arm over his neck. "We have to find a place where we can lay low for a while and wait for the storm to pass."_

_The boy's eyes flashed, his eyebrows knitting together. He shook his head firmly and pointed forward, clearly agitated. Regulus sighed._

_ "__Use your words, Kirill, I know you can speak. And I _know_ the sleeping potion is going to wear off soon, I'm the one who brewed it! But if we don't rest for a while, somebody's going to walk off a bloody cliff. _You_ might be able to see in all this, but the rest of us are merely human."_

_The boy glowered, but nodded. He looked around, scanning the trees with alert eyes. Finally, he pointed._

_ "__There."_

_His voice was rough, deeper than it should have been. He said the word abruptly, in a strange tone of voice that made Sirius wonder whether he actually spoke English._

_He led them to the shelter of a large boulder. Several trees grew around it, shielding the ground from the snow. Regulus and Sirius lowered James onto the dry pine needles, and he sat with his back up against the stone. Sirius straightened up, and ran a hand wearily through his scruffy black hair. He glanced over to find Regulus staring at him, looking suddenly uncomfortable as he caught his brother's eye. Finally, Sirius allowed himself to speak._

_ "__Reg…"_

_His throat closed up as he saw Regulus's eyes fill with tears. All his questions died on his lips, and he suddenly lurched forward, gathering his baby brother into his arms in a fierce hug. The younger man latched onto him, burying his face in Sirius's shoulder as he sobbed uncontrollably._

_ "__I- I didn't want… Mum _made_ me, Dad said he'd kill me himself if I tried to leave… I was so _scared_, Sirius!"_

_And suddenly, Sirius was sobbing too._

_ "__It's over now, Reg," he said fiercely. "It's _over_. You're coming back with us, and we'll protect you. Everything is going to be just fine."_

_Regulus pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Sirius swallowed thickly._

_ "__I'm _sorry_, baby brother," he said softly. "I'm so fucking sorry. I should _never_ have left you there, I should have taken you with me. I know that what I did is unforgivable, and I honestly don't know why you risked everything to save my sorry hide, but I swear to Merlin, I will do _everything_ in my power to make sure that no one ever hurts you again. You hear me?"_

_Regulus smiled at him. But it was an achingly sad smile, the smile of one who is already resigned to his fate. Sirius felt something leaden in his stomach as his brother took a deep, shaky breath, and pulled away, stepping out of his arms. Something was very wrong._

_Instinctively, Sirius looked around, but all he could see was blackness beyond the closest trees, and the steadily falling snow. The boy was standing near the edge of the tiny clearing, his keen eyes scanning their surroundings warily. Seeing him brought back all of Sirius's questions._

_ "__How did you get us out of there so easily?"_

_A ghost of Regulus's normal, carefree smile returned._

_ "__The night shift likes their scotch. I spiked it with a bit of Sleeping Draught, and you guys had a free pass out of the dungeons. Amazing what a little inside knowledge can do."_

_His last statement was spoken with a bitterness that confused Sirius. But Regulus was already turning to the boy, who had his head cocked as though he were listening to something through the mournful howl of the wind._

_ "__Are they onto us?" Regulus asked. The boy looked at him and nodded._

_ "__They wake up," he said gruffly, his words thickly accented. "Dark One very angry. We go soon."_

_Regulus nodded, his face grim and determined. He turned back to Sirius, who was looking at the boy in confusion and shock._

_ "__He's a werewolf," Regulus explained, jerking his head toward the feral-looking child. "Better sight and hearing and all that. Comes in pretty handy at moments like this."_

_Sirius turned to his brother, eyes wide. _

_ "__H-how… why are you doing this? Why is _he _doing this? Why is he even _here_, he's just a kid!"_

_ "__Yeah, he is just a kid," Regulus said, looking back at the boy. "Aren't you, Kirill?"_

_The sandy-haired child gave him a dirty look, before returning his sharp gaze to the blackness that surrounded them. Regulus chuckled darkly, and looked up at Sirius._

_ "__Russian, though. They breed them strong over there. He's an incredibly powerful Legilimens – born with it, I think – and the Dark Lord wanted to use him to manipulate his Dark Creature armies. Kirill wasn't having a bar of it though, especially after Voldemort murdered his mother. He's been feeding Voldemort false information for years. He broke Frank and Alice out of the dungeons as well, two years ago. Didn't really have much of a plan that time, the bloody idiot ended up having to jump off a waterfall to avoid the Death Eaters."_

_Regulus shot Kirill a mildly teasing look, and the boy rolled his eyes, turning back to glare at his compatriot, who chuckled again._

_ "__It all worked out in the end though, didn't it?" Regulus continued, smiling at his solemn young friend. "I was searching for the escaped prisoners downriver, and fished him out before he could drown. I'd been trying to figure out a way to work against the Dark Lord, a way to help from the inside, and then Kirill came along, obviously trying to do the same thing. We've been working together ever since."_

_Sirius stared at his brother, disbelief warring with a pride so strong he almost couldn't breathe. Regulus looked back at him, his face set with the determined cheerfulness of a desperate man._

_ "__Sometimes, in my mind, I refer to us as the Two Musketeers, but then I realize just how cheesy that sounds."_

_Sirius continued to gape at him, and Regulus shifted awkwardly under his gaze._

_ "__We haven't been able to do that much yet, we've mostly been keeping our heads down and learning as much as we can. I saw Peter with the Dark Lord a few months ago though, and I just _had_ to do something. I know how much you all trusted him."_

_Sirius felt a stab of pain at the mention of his former friend. His treachery had been an awful blow. And James and Lily had been thinking of making him their Secret Keeper… Sirius shuddered, unable to face what might have been. Regulus gave him a sympathetic look, then continued._

_"__I can't risk being seen working against the Death Eaters, and my memory charms are nowhere near as good as Kirill's – comes with being a Legilimens, I suppose – so I sent him to rescue the Prewetts. He gave Fabian the image I'd seen of Peter with the Dark Lord. I assume it worked, seeing as Peter hasn't been back here since?"_

_At the question, Sirius managed to break out of his shocked stupor enough to nod shortly._

_"__He's in Azkaban, where he damn well should be."_

_"__Good," Regulus said. "Good." _

_Sirius grasped his brother's shoulder tightly, his throat closing up with emotion._

_"__Thank you, Regulus," he said intently, glancing over at the boy as well. "And you too, Kirill. You have no idea how much you helped us by doing that. Not only Fay and Gideon, but… well, James and his family would probably be dead by now if it weren't for you."_

_He looked back at his friend, who had nodded off against the boulder. Voldemort had given James special attention over the past few days, working him over with more than just Crucios, and the black-haired man was fading fast. They needed to get out of there._

_Clearly, Kirill agreed. He made a small noise of dismay, then blurted out something that must have been Russian, for Sirius couldn't understand it. Regulus, however, paled, and Sirius felt his breath catch._

_"__What did he say?" he asked, dreading the answer._

_"__They're on thestrals," Regulus hissed. "I forgot about the bloody thestrals!"_

_"__We go, we go!" Kirill cried._

_The two men raced back to James, and hauled him to his feet unceremoniously. James awoke with a shout, but immediately seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. Kirill was waving frantically for them to follow him, and they set off yet again, the storm only slightly better than it had been when they stopped. _

_The next hour was a confused blur of snow, ice, and fear. Sirius and Regulus were practically carrying James between them, and Kirill urged them over the steep ridges and down the treacherous inclines like the devil himself was on their heels. Every so often, the boy would turn back and pull them down into the undergrowth, holding his finger to his lips as the soft, almost imperceptible swish of thestral wings passed overhead. The Death Eaters were getting close. _

_Just when Sirius began to despair, losing hope that they would make it out of the anti-Apparition zone before Voldemort found them, Regulus gave a small cry of relief._

_"__We're here, we made it," he said. Sirius looked around, but could see no markers, no indication that they had crossed any kind of border. But Regulus was already lowering James to his knees. He turned to Sirius, his face set in grim resignation._

_"__Time for you to go home."_

_The bottom dropped out of Sirius's stomach._

_"__Time for _us_ to go home, you mean."_

_Regulus shook his head._

_"__We can't come with you, brother. There's too much more we need to do."_

_"__But they'll _find_ you! They'll figure out that you helped us, and then they'll _kill_ you!"_

_Regulus shook his head again, and Sirius's eyes began to fill with desperate, angry tears._

_"__We're pretty damn good at not getting caught, aren't we Kirill?" Regulus said, shooting a watery, wavering smile at the boy who stood at Sirius's side. Kirill didn't answer, just stared resolutely at Regulus, who took a deep breath and turned determined gray eyes to his older brother._

_"__Voldemort made Horcruxes to store parts of his soul. That's why he can't be killed. Don't ask me how I found this out, you don't want to know. But we _have_ to destroy them. For you, for James, for everyone… we have to stay here. We have to destroy Voldemort from the inside out."_

_Sirius gaped at his younger brother, this boy who had once accidentally knocked over every suit of armor in the third floor corridor at Hogwarts, who had been too painfully awkward to ask any girls to the Yule Ball. Somewhere along the line that boy had disappeared, and he had been replaced by the fierce young man who now stood in front of him, fully aware that the path he was choosing would lead almost inevitably to death. Sirius had never been so proud of anyone in his entire life. He had also never been so angry._

_"__You don't actually think I'm just going to _leave_ you here, do you?" he hissed quietly, fully aware that the Death Eaters were probably not too far off. "You're my brother and I love you, I am _not _going to let you die at the hands of that madman, not if there's still breath left in my body!"_

_Regulus was clearly struggling to keep his composure. His chest heaved as he looked at his brother, his eyes shining with restrained tears._

_"__I thought you would say something like that," he said quietly, then looked down at Kirill. He nodded at the boy, then reached out and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. Sirius grasped the back of his brother's robes, holding him desperately. Nothing was going to separate them again, nothing._

_"__It was good to see you again, brother," Regulus whispered brokenly. "But you have to let me go. You have to give me up for gone." _

_Before Sirius could reply to this ridiculous statement, he felt a touch on his arm. He glanced down, still holding his brother tightly. Kirill was looking up at him, and for the first time, Sirius saw something other than numb anger and frustration in the boy's hazel eyes. Sympathy, pain, fear, resignation… But Sirius was offered a mere glimpse at the warring emotions. Before he could react, the boy waved a hand…_

_And Sirius Black and James Potter were back in England, slumped in the snow outside the Burrow. Cries of joy greeted them, and Sirius could feel Alastor Moody's hands supporting him, practically carrying him into the warm house. The past few days were blank, all memories since their capture gone completely. But as he sat at the kitchen table, allowing the Order members to make a fuss over him, Sirius looked out the window at the snow falling from the night sky. He couldn't get rid of the uncomfortable feeling that somewhere out there, someone he loved was cold, desperate, and incredibly frightened._

* * *

Bwahaha things are starting to come together... but there is so much more to be told! Next chapter: some Remus and Tonks time, finally! Thanks so much for the reviews, y'all :)


	23. Chapter 22

It was nearing midnight, but Lily Potter couldn't sleep. She sat at Remus Lupin's bedside, fussing with potions, straightening the sheets, and occasionally pausing to brush a lock of his newly-cut sandy hair off his forehead.

She had never actually met the man. Oh, she had heard stories – from her husband, from her friends, from her children… But she had never seen Remus in the flesh until tonight, when he had arrived on the front lawn in a frightful mental and physical state. Instincts had taken over, and she had done everything she could to heal the broken young man. Now that the danger had passed, however, she was finding it difficult to deal with the emotions invoked by the discovery of his past injuries. Hence why she was still awake at midnight, sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to his bed, staring at him.

_He was Harry's age when someone did this to him_, she thought, a shiver running down her spine as she looked down at his deceptively peaceful face. She had had to cut his hair short to make a full examination of the ghastly injury near his right temple – and to check that he wasn't hiding any more head trauma – and had decided that she might as well do a shaving spell on his unkempt beard while she was at it. Now, spell cleaned and clad in some of Bill's old pyjamas, he looked achingly young, and frighteningly thin. Lily hoped that Molly would be able to forgive Remus as easily as she had forgiven Alex, because if there was ever anyone who was in need of Molly's overfeeding, it was Remus.

They had moved the unconscious man to Ron's room after Alex had left with the Portkey, weighed down with a backpack stuffed to the brim with all the food Molly could possibly give him. The poor young man had stared at the plump redhead in utter bewilderment as she loaded him with nine packs of sausages, three whole chickens, a bag of rice the size of his head, and two huge loaves of banana bread.

"For your family," she had said quietly, smiling at him. There was still a hint of wariness in her gaze, and Lily knew that she had yet to really warm to the idea of werewolves. But Alex was clearly well on his way to being an exception.

Alice and Lily had levitated Remus into Ron's empty bed, determined to get him out of the public space before a horde of children finally descended, wanting to know if he was alright. Alice went out to field their worried questions, and afterwards the exhausted Auror retired for the night, heading home with Frank. Neville was staying the night at the Burrow with the rest of the children.

James and Sirius had come in briefly to check on their friend, both of them standing awkwardly with their hands in their pockets as they looked down at the unconscious young man. Thanks to Lily's spellwork, Remus's hair no longer concealed the awful indentation on the right side of his skull, and Lily could see both men's gazes being drawn sickeningly to it.

"Are we…" Sirius paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Are we sure it's just his memory that was affected? I mean… that looks pretty bad."

Lily shrugged, feeling helpless.

"I really can't be sure. I'm not a mind healer, or a Legilimens. But he seems… normal, doesn't he?"

It was James's turn to shrug.

"Define normal. He seems to be a pretty smart kid, if that's an indication of anything."

"Is there anything you can do for him?" Sirius asked, looking at Lily almost pleadingly. Lily sighed.

"I sent an owl for the Nerve Regen potion, it should be here fairly soon. I'll give him some tonight. With any luck, when he wakes up tomorrow he'll actually feel what his body is trying to tell him, and he won't go rushing off barely healed. As for the head injury, I want to talk to him when he's awake. See if he even wants me to try and heal it, or if he wants a Legilimens to help him."

James and Sirius nodded, and Lily watched her husband rub his eyes in exhaustion. A yawn threatened at his lips.

"Why don't you two go to bed? You both look like shit."

James's mouth quirked.

"Why thank you, my love," he said wryly. "Always nice to know that my wife thinks I'm devilishly handsome."

She swatted at his arm, laughing quietly as she shooed them out of the room.

Now, a few hours later, she had run out of reasons to stay awake, but couldn't bring herself to sleep. She had administered the first dose of the Nerve Regen potion – she would give him the rest tomorrow, once he'd gotten a bit accustomed to it – and had fully healed all the remaining small injuries she could find. She had had a few werewolf patients before, but it never ceased to amaze her just how much damage they did to themselves every month. The last full moon was only two days past, and by the numerous half-healed gashes and scratches across his body, she could tell that Remus hadn't had Wolfsbane.

The door creaked, and she whipped around, her hand instinctively going to her wand. But then the familiar black-haired head of Severus Snape peeked in, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The instincts of the War were hard to shake.

Severus looked just as surprised to see her there as she was to see him.

"Why are you still up, Lily?" he asked softly, shooting a glance at the unconscious man beside her.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, shrugging tiredly as she turned back to her patient. "Why are _you_ up?"

She felt her friend pull up a chair beside her and sit down, crossing his legs languidly.

"Insomnia, as always," he said wearily, and she looked at him in concern. Of all of them, Severus had perhaps suffered the most during the War, serving as Dumbledore's spy in Voldemort's ranks. His information had proven invaluable, but it had come at a terrible cost, and Lily knew that he had awful, recurring nightmares. He had confided to her that one of the things that bothered him the most was that near the end, when he had finally been discovered and tortured by the Dark Lord, he couldn't for the life of him remember how he had escaped. One moment he was under the Cruciatus in Voldemort's headquarters, and the next moment he was stumbling up to the gates of Hogwarts, broken and bleeding. She had reminded him that this was not unusual – many of the Order members had mysterious gaps in their memories. But for a Legilimens – someone who _should_ be able to find and dismantle any Obliviate spells placed on his mind – the gap in memory was especially infuriating.

Suddenly, Lily mentally kicked herself.

"Sev," she said eagerly, and her friend raised a thin eyebrow at her. "You're a Legilimens!"

"Lily, your insight never ceases to amaze me," he said sarcastically, but she ignored him.

"I've been trying to figure out how much damage was done when Remus got that injury," she said, pointing at the young man's right temple. Severus followed her finger, and winced sharply. "But I don't really know how to do it. If you could look at his mind – just for a moment! – maybe you could give me a better idea of what I might be able to heal."

Whatever reaction Lily had been expecting, this was not it. Severus looked suddenly stricken, and he rubbed his eyes with a hand that trembled slightly. He looked up at her, and Lily saw deep pain reflected in his gaze. She opened her mouth again, but no sound came out. What was wrong?

"Lily…" he began, then took a deep, steadying breath. He folded his hands in his lap, staring down at them resolutely.

"I don't need to look into his mind. I have already done so, almost six years ago now. And I have no wish to do it ever again."

Lily stared at him in confusion.

"What do you mean? I thought you only met him this year!"

Severus shook his head, looking pained.

"Dumbledore brought him to me, right after his family was killed. The boy was injured, hysterical, on the verge of a mental break. I did not _want_ to perform Legilimency on him, I had no wish to see what he had seen. But Dumbledore insisted that I try and help him, and so I did as he ordered."

Severus swallowed thickly. Lily stared at him in horror.

"I will not bore you with all the gory details. Needless to say, Remus has very good reasons for acting the way he did tonight. But more in line with your question – Alex was correct, Lupin remembers almost nothing from before the… _accident_, if you can call it that. Flashes of emotion, glimpses of dark rooms and forests, scents and sounds… It's all very confused. As for the damage…"

Severus paused, turning his gaze to the young man lying in the bed. Lily observed the worried look on her oldest friend's face, and suddenly realized that despite Sev's griping, he really did care about Remus. She smiled slightly, despite the somber topic. Severus continued.

"I obviously can't say for sure, Legilimency is not an exact art. But I think it is quite possible that before _that _happened to him," Severus gestured distastefully at the young man's temple, "Remus was quite a powerful wizard. Much more powerful than he is today. He might have even been what scholars call a _natural Legilimens_ – that is, someone who is born with the ability, rather than having to learn it."

Severus turned to look at Lily, who was gaping at him.

"This is all theory, of course. I cannot say for certain. He is most definitely not a Legilimens now, I've never met _anyone_ with such nonexistent mental shields. But I do think it is one of the only ways he could have survived such a traumatic event, with so little apparent damage. His natural magical ability must have protected him from the worst of it. For anyone without such powers, that injury would have been crippling, if not fatal. As it is, the only things he seems to have lost – apart from his memories – are the very abilities that saved him."

Lily turned back to stare at her patient once again. His chest moved up and down in shallow breaths, and his face was unlined and youthful in sleep. The more they learned about Remus, the more complicated his past seemed to be. He had already seen far more than his share of violence, that was for sure.

Severus stood up wearily.

"Time to try sleeping again," he said, his voice resigned. Lily finally managed to shake herself out of her stupor.

"Do you want some Dreamless Sleep potion?" she asked, looking up at him in concern. He shook his head.

"I cannot take it every night. I'll become addicted, and then the effects will wear off."

She nodded. He was right, he was always right about potions. She smiled wanly at him, and he nodded once before crossing to the door. He opened it, but turned back to her one last time.

"I know you want to help him, Lily," he said, "and I commend you for it. But… trust me when I tell you to _leave it alone_. You can fix the scratches, you can fix the ribs, you can even fix the damaged nerves… but you can't fix this. And I don't think he'd _want_ you to."

And with that, Severus bade her goodnight and left. Lily turned to her patient, giving his sleeping face one last searching look. And then she, too, stood and walked to the door. With a wave of her wand, she turned the light off and left the room, shuffling wearily down the hall to the guest bedroom where she could hear James lightly snoring. The mystery of Remus Lupin would have to wait. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

Tonks woke abruptly in the very early hours of the morning. Dim light filtered through the window, and she groaned as she caught a glimpse of her alarm clock. 5:05 am.

_Goddammit, this is supposed to be my day off_, she thought darkly. _Why am I awake even _earlier_ than usual?_

The answer to her question came in the form of a muffled cry echoing through the wall from the room beside hers. She was rooming with Hermione, Ginny, and Hannah, and the room to their left had originally been for Ron, Harry, and Draco. But Alice and Lily had appropriated it for Remus, sending the three boys upstairs to bunk with Neville and Blaise. That meant that the noises that had woken her up could only be coming from one person.

Suddenly wide awake, Tonks looked around surreptitiously. The other girls were still asleep, Hannah clutching her teddy bear in her arms. Tonks was not normally a light sleeper, but the Auror training schedule had made her much more of a morning person than she had ever been.

She swung her legs off the bed, gingerly getting to her feet. Lily and Alice hadn't allowed her in to see Remus last night, which had been supremely frustrating. But there was no way in hell she was just going to lie here, listening to him have some sort of nightmare, and not do anything about it.

She crept to the door and let herself out into the hallway, tip-toeing down to a door with a large sign that said "RON'S – KEEP OUT". Edging the door open, she peeked inside.

The first hints of dawn filled the room with ghostly blue light. Tonks's eyes fell on one of the beds against the wall. Remus was sprawled upon it, the sheets kicked off, his eyes tightly shut in anxious sleep. He was clad in worn, faded blue pyjama bottoms, and a thin white undershirt. He had obviously been thrashing about for some time, for his tense face shone with sweat, and his shirt was pulled up slightly to reveal a tantalizing amount of pale skin. Tonks's suddenly fuzzy brain made a mental note to feed him as much bacon as she possibly could over the next few days. He really was alarmingly skinny.

What really captured her attention, however, was his hair. Lily must have cut it, because it was shorter than Tonks had ever seen it. Combined with his newly clean-shaven face and his bare feet, he looked adorably young. She almost smiled at the sight.

But then he turned his head, and she was faced with the old wound she had glimpsed once before in the Room of Requirement. She winced, her throat constricting. Everything she had witnessed and learned the day before came rushing back, leaving her feeling slightly nauseous as she stepped softly into the room and shut the door behind her. Everyone at the Burrow had agreed that they would do everything in their power to help Remus, and she was going to start right here, right now.

The lanky young man jerked in his sleep, tossing his head to the side as he cried out incoherently. She stepped forward cautiously, reaching towards him. She didn't really have a plan – mostly hoping that a friendly presence and a comforting hand might be able to chase the dreams away. If it hadn't been five in the morning, if she had been more awake, if his adorably disheveled state hadn't been distracting her so thoroughly… perhaps she would have realized just how stupid she was being. But it was too late. She touched his shoulder tentatively.

His eyes snapped open. Before she could gasp, before she could move a muscle, he grabbed her wrist in an iron grip, yanking her forward. He pulled her roughly across him, flipping her over and pinning her ruthlessly to the bed, his entire body weight bearing down on her. All of her fighting instincts, all of her training went right out the window in the face of such unrestrained ferocity.

"Professor!" she squeaked, desperate to bring him back from the nightmare that clearly still had him in its grips before his forearm crushed her windpipe. She looked up at him helplessly, wriggling futily to try and gain some sort of control. His eyes were blank and cold, distant and numb – utterly unfamiliar. Seeing a stranger's eyes looking back at her from Remus's face scared Tonks more than the fact that she was rapidly losing the ability to breathe. She closed her eyes tightly.

Suddenly, he was gone. She heard a thud on the floor next to the bed, and she scrambled to a sitting position, her back against the wall, her hand going instinctively to her damaged throat. She opened her eyes wildly, and saw Remus sprawled on the floor next to her, staring at her with wide, horrified, very much awake hazel eyes. He scrambled backwards until his back hit the opposite wall, still gaping at her in horror, and she could see the self-hatred creeping into his expression.

They stared at each other for a long, awful moment. And then Tonks could stand it no longer. She leapt off the bed, running to him on legs that shook with adrenaline and the aftermath of fear. She fell to her knees beside him, and he shrank away from her, an all-consuming guilt making him curl in on himself.

"_Dora…_" he whispered brokenly. "I didn't know it was you, I was… _I'm sorry_…"

"Shhh, it's okay," she breathed. "It's okay, I was being an idiot. I shouldn't have approached you, I should have known you would react like that."

He avoided her eyes, shaking his head.

"Shouldn't… I shouldn't be like this. I _hurt_ you!"

He gestured helplessly at her neck, which she was sure was rapidly turning a lovely shade of red, or maybe even purple. She was going to have to do some serious morphing to avoid any awkward questions…

"It wasn't _you_," she said gently. "It was the dream, and it's over now."

He did not look comforted by her words. In fact, he gave an almost imperceptible wince, the look of self-hatred growing stronger. She laid her hand on his bicep, dimly noticing that despite his malnourished state, he somehow still had a thin layer of stringy, well-defined muscle. Remus's eyes widened almost comically, and he looked down at her small hand touching his bare skin.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed," she said. "You're nowhere near fully healed."

She began to reach an arm around his waist to help him stand, but he grabbed her wrists, his grip gentle this time. He was staring at the places where his skin met hers with a look of spellbound awe that confused her for a moment. And then she remembered what Lily had told them last night. She must have given him the Nerve Regen potion already. Tonks felt a flash of anger that Lily hadn't even _warned_ Remus, hadn't even waited for him to _wake up_. But then the young man's hands were on the move, and all coherent thought was chased from Tonks's brain.

Remus's guilt and self-hatred had clearly been forgotten under what must have been an overwhelming onslaught of new and foreign sensation. His eyes were shining with confused joy as he ran his hands lightly up Tonks's arms, his gaze following the motions in bewilderment. Tonks's breath caught as she felt his calloused palms skimming across her skin, and she couldn't help but wonder if Lily had slipped _her_ a bit of the nerve potion as well, because surely nothing had ever felt quite this good.

Remus's hazel green eyes flickered up to meet hers, and he stared at her in confusion and wonder. Tonks felt her heart almost beating out of her chest as he reached up with one hand to lightly caress her cheek, his mouth spreading into an awestruck smile.

He shifted slightly to get closer to her, and suddenly grimaced, his face tightening with pain. Tonks almost whimpered with disappointment when his hand left her cheek and gripped the front of his shirt as he looked down at his chest in surprise. His ribs were obviously quite tender, and he was feeling it much more than he ever had before.

"What… what's going on?" he whispered, looking back up at her desperately. And then, as though he had only just realized that he was in an unfamiliar room, in someone else's clothing, he looked around in bewilderment.

"Where am I? Where's Alex?"

He was beginning to sound slightly distraught, and Tonks gripped his bicep bracingly.

"This is the Weasley's house, you're safe," she said, and his eyes swung to meet hers. "This is where the Portkey brought you all last night. Alex is _fine_, but he had to go back to Bulgaria. He was very worried about you. We _all _were."

He stared at her with wide eyes. She had never seen him looking so utterly lost. Professor Lupin had always seemed so sure of himself, so competent, so _invincible_. Yesterday's discoveries had cracked that façade, and now Tonks watched helplessly as Remus's face crumpled, and he turned away from her, burying his head in his hands. He remembered last night.

"Remus…" she began, reaching towards him again. But he flinched away from her touch.

"Why are you _here_, Dora?" he moaned through his fingers. "How can you even stand to _look_ at me? I'm a fucking _animal_, you should get as far away from me as you can."

If there was one thing Remus was good at, it was making Tonks boiling mad. She narrowed her eyes at him, then shifted so she was on her knees in front of him. Reaching forward, she pried his hands away from his face.

"Look at me, Remus," she said forcefully. Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his bloodshot eyes to meet hers. He looked completely miserable. She took a deep breath, not entirely certain what she was going to say, but determined to make him see reason.

"You are _not_ an animal," she said crisply. "You are a human being. An _idiotic_ one who doesn't know his own limits, and refuses to ask for help, but a human being nonetheless. Don't argue with me about the semantics," she said, seeing him open his mouth in protest. "Werewolves are humans with a disease, you taught me that yourself. So stop it with this 'animal' bullshit."

Seeing his mouth quirk weakly in a hint of an amused smile, she continued, emboldened.

"I know you didn't want us all to find out about your family – especially in that way…"

She wavered as she saw his eyes shutter, and his mouth set in a grim line. But she forged on, determined to say her piece.

"You have to understand, Remus – we all _care_ about you. Do you remember what Alex said? You have _so many_ friends. All of your students, all of the Order members… we want to _help_ you. You can trust us, you can lean on us, we _want_ you to. Stop running yourself into the ground, trying to do everything alone."

She paused, breathing deeply. His grim look was slowly transforming to one of utter bewilderment. But she still wasn't done.

"Believe me, not a single person who saw what happened last night blames you for it. Merlin, if _I_ had been in your shoes, I would have been an even bigger mess."

He winced, but she ignored it, soldiering on.

"We don't think any less of you, we don't think you're an _animal_… we just know you better now. We understand a bit more of what you're dealing with. You don't need to hide from us, we're your _friends_. And we want to help."

There was a long, stunned silence. Remus was staring at her in awe. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"You… you've been talking to Alex, haven't you?"

She blushed, ducking her head slightly.

"Yeah, well… I told you we were worried about you. The Aurors pretty much interrogated the poor man after you buggered off to sleep."

He raised an eyebrow, looking slightly worried.

"Oh? And what did you find out?"

She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes inevitably drawn to his temple, where she had a close-up view of the injury that had stolen his memories. Seeing the path of her gaze, he raised his hand quickly, his eyes widening in shock as he felt short hair at his fingertips. His eyes flashed back to hers, and she thought she saw a spark of anger in his suddenly wary gaze.

"Lily found it while she was healing you," Tonks whispered. "Between that and the nerve damage, she was pretty distraught. Started yelling at Alex, wanted to know who'd done it so she could sic the Dementors on them."

Remus's hand fisted in his short hair, trying to hide any sign of the injury.

"I don't… I don't remember who did it," he whispered, so quietly that Tonks had to strain to hear him.

"I know," she said softly, and he turned away, closing his eyes tightly and taking deep breaths in through his nose, as though he was trying very hard not to break down. Tentatively, she reached up and laced her fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He looked down at their joined hands in mild shock, and she felt him return the pressure hesitantly. Reminded by the contact, he looked back up at her sharply.

"Nerve damage?" he asked, only just realizing what she had said. She took a deep breath. How had she ended up with the task of telling him all this?

_This is what I get for approaching a sleeping werewolf_, she thought wryly. But as she met his confused gaze, she realized that of all the people he knew in Britain, she was the only one to whom he had ever voluntarily told _anything_ about his past – even if it had been under the influence of alcohol. Out of all the people at the Burrow, she may very well be the one he trusted the most. The thought made her suddenly feel very responsible for him.

"Yes," she said. "Lily discovered that too. Apparently…"

She swallowed. The words were, unsurprisingly, very difficult to say.

"Apparently, someone put you under the Cruciatus for so long that your nerves were almost destroyed."

There was a long, stunned silence. He stared at her, unblinking. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she continued to explain.

"Lily gave you a Nerve Regeneration potion. She… she said it would restore more feeling to your body."

Almost against her will, Tonks felt her hand begin to trace its way up his bare arm, examining the contours of his bicep. His eyes fluttered shut, and her heart leapt when he let out a quiet moan. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and – stunned by her boldness – Tonks laid her other hand right above his frantically beating heart, feeling his warmth through the thin undershirt. His eyes flashed open again, and Tonks suddenly flushed with heat. His normally calm, twinkling hazel eyes were dark with desire. She licked her lips, and he glanced down at them, reaching up and tangling a hand in the pink hair at the nape of her neck as he leaned forward…

A loud crash sounded from out in the hallway, and they almost jumped out of their skins. Tonks gave an undignified squawk of surprise, and toppled forward into Remus's chest, wincing inwardly as he let out a pained gasp at the pressure. His arms came up to catch her, and they both gaped at the door, wondering who could possibly be making that much noise so early in the morning. But as Tonks registered the bright sunlight now beaming through the window, and the hands on the clock above the door, she realized that nearly two hours had gone by.

Most of the Weasley family woke up at obscene hours of the morning, and at a quarter to seven, Fred and George were already making trouble. Tonks could clearly hear their jovial voices ringing from the next room, and if the enraged female swearing was anything to go by, she was willing to bet that the loud crash had been the girls' bedroom door being violently opened. Despite her annoyance, Tonks couldn't help but chuckle.

She craned her neck to look up at Remus, and suddenly became very aware of how close they were. The young man was practically cradling her in his arms, and as he stared down at her with wide eyes, she knew that he must be overwhelmed by the sensation of her body against his. She knew that, in a way, she was taking advantage of him. But as she slowly closed the gap between them, she couldn't bring herself to care.

This time, it was Remus who gasped when their lips met. She could feel him trembling beneath her, and he moaned as she deepened the kiss. His hands fisted in her clothing, and he pulled away from her, eyes tightly shut, breathing as though he had just run a marathon.

"_Dora_…" he growled. "Dora, _please_, I… You feel _so good_… but you don't know what you're getting into. _Please_, can you…"

He took a long, calming breath, his eyes still shut.

"Can you just give me a little space? You… everything I said to you in May still applies. I may be a human being, but I'm a _dangerous_ one. And you don't want to be emotionally involved with me."

His hazel eyes opened, and he looked down at her pleadingly, pulling back from her slightly and releasing his tight grip on her body. She allowed him to extricate himself, feeling slightly guilty for the look of mild panic on his face.

"I saw a branded werewolf a few weeks ago."

She didn't remember telling her mouth to say that. Remus froze, still half in her arms, staring at her. She continued.

"At the Ministry. The WCU arrested him because he'd been working. Terry, Clarence, Dennis and I tried to get them to leave him alone. It didn't work."

Remus's brow furrowed, and he leaned back against the wall.

"Why are you telling me this, Dora?" he said wearily. "Things like that happen all the time. One of these days, it's probably going to happen to _me_. I would think that would have made you realize how stupid it is to want to be with me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he had the good sense to look slightly nervous.

"On the contrary," she said coolly. "It made me realize that if _you're_ going to be fighting this war, then I want to fight it _with_ you."

He raised his eyebrows, but she was not done.

"I like you, Remus Lupin. I like you a lot. And if you'll let me, I'd like to try and make you happy. I want to see you smile more often."

He looked completely flabbergasted, and opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.

"Just… just think about it, alright?" she said, before clambering to her feet and holding out a hand to him. "Right now, all I want to do is go down and eat whatever it is that Molly's making. You _do_ smell that, right?"

The scent of bacon and pancakes had begun to waft underneath the door. Tonks saw Remus's nose twitch, and his stomach gave a telltale growl. He smiled up at her sheepishly. She laughed, and beckoned for him to take her hand.

"Come on, get some clothes on. Everyone's going to be really happy to see you."

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	24. Chapter 23

The girls had already gone downstairs for breakfast by the time Tonks slipped into the room to change. She hoped that they had been too distracted by their rude awakening to notice that she was missing. Throwing on a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top, she ran a hand through her short pink hair. Presentable enough.

She left the room just as Remus's door was opening. He was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a Weird Sisters shirt that Tonks immediately recognized as Bill's. The eldest Weasley boy had a very similar build to Remus, but the shirt hung off the young werewolf, accentuating how unhealthy he was. He looked at her sheepishly, his face partially shadowed by the frayed Muggle baseball cap he sometimes wore. He had pulled it down as far as it went, and Tonks saw that it concealed almost all of the old wound on the side of his head. She gave him a sympathetic look.

"Remus, you don't have to wear that," she said, and he shuffled his feet awkwardly. "You don't have to hide from us, remember? Besides, Molly will probably make you take it off anyway, she's a stickler for manners."

"Molly?" he asked.

"Mrs. Weasley," she corrected, remembering that he had never met some of the people she could hear shouting and laughing downstairs in the kitchen. He swallowed nervously, reaching a hand up and slowly removing the cap. He threw it back into Ron's room, then turned back to her, his gaze dropping to her neck. Self-hatred creeped back into his expression, and she suddenly remembered the bruising.

"Shit," she muttered, and screwed her face up in concentration. Opening her eyes again, she saw him looking at her with a slightly awestruck expression.

"All gone?" she asked, and he nodded dumbly.

"I always forget that you can do that," he said, and she chuckled.

"You're not the only shapeshifter in these parts," she said wryly. "But I think there's room enough for the both of us."

His face lifted into a shadow of his normal, broad grin. She smiled back at him, then reached down and grabbed his hand boldly.

"Come on, I'm starving."

She led him downstairs, her heart doing the cha-cha as he made no move to extricate his hand from hers. The voices from the kitchen became even more raucous as they descended the steps. It sounded like everyone else was already up, preparing for a big day of festivities. She paused, looking back at Remus, who bent his head to hear her over the din.

"Just to warn you," she said loudly. "It's Harry's birthday today, and Neville's birthday was two days ago. We have a big party every year, that's why there are so many people here."

He nodded, looking even more nervous. She gave him an encouraging smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"You'll be fine, they don't bite," she said, before turning back and leading him into the kitchen doorway.

The shouts and laughter petered out abruptly as everyone turned to look at them. With the Potters, Weasleys, Blacks, and Prewetts in the room, with several other hangers-on, the kitchen table was full to bursting with children, teenagers, and adults – all of whom were now staring at the newcomers. The sudden attention made Tonks feel quite uncomfortable, and she felt Remus's hand tighten on hers almost painfully. She couldn't even imagine how he must be feeling right now.

Tonks saw several people's gazes drop to their joined hands, and she felt Remus suddenly release her. Though she was disappointed, she couldn't exactly blame him. He had enough to deal with, without also having to explain their confusing and mildly scandalous relationship.

To her utter relief, James finally stood up, striding over to the young man and clapping him on the shoulder. Nobody missed Remus's small step backward, nor the violent flinch he gave at the contact. Tonks's heart sank. Despite her words earlier, Remus clearly still expected anger and punishment for his actions. James had opened his mouth to say something, but – seeing the fear and apprehension in Remus's hazel eyes – he closed it, looking pained and uncertain. He stared at the young man for a long moment, and Tonks held her breath. Then, with a muttered oath, James pulled Remus into a tight hug, wrapping his arms securely around the man's thin frame.

For a moment, Remus just stood there stiffly, his eyes wide in disbelief. Then, slowly, his arms came up to return the embrace, hands grasping James's shirt desperately. He buried his face in the older man's shoulder, and James brought his hand up to cup the back of his sandy-haired head.

"It's alright, son," James whispered. "It's alright. You did the same thing any of us would have done, if we'd been in your shoes. You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of, you hear me?"

Remus pulled back, his eyes slightly red. He looked up at James, and gave a small nod.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I put you all in danger."

James's hands tightened on his shoulders, but it was Sirius who piped up, "Don't you worry about that, kid, danger's our middle name!"

Several laughs burst out around the room, and despite himself, Remus gave a strangled chuckle, wiping a hand down his face.

"How do you feel?" James asked, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. Remus looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I…"

He was obviously searching for the right words.

"I _feel_," he said at last, shrugging helplessly. James grinned, and looked over at Lily, who was getting to her feet. Remus followed his gaze.

"Are you Lily?" he asked quietly. The red-haired woman nodded, and he smiled at her tentatively.

"I've heard a lot about you," he said. "James never shuts up about you."

Lily raised an eyebrow at her husband, amused. He shrugged.

"What can I say?" he said, grinning. "I like to brag."

Tonks smirked as she watched Harry and Hannah roll their eyes at each other, looking embarrassed.

"So you're… feeling things?" Lily said, reaching out as if to guide Remus out of the room so she could talk to him privately. He didn't seem to understand her intentions, however, and answered her openly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah, it's a little overwhelming actually. Dora said something about a potion you gave me?"

Tonks's gaze flickered to the teenagers in the room – those who hadn't been in the kitchen last night. They seemed remarkably unsurprised by what should have been a mysterious conversation to them. Fred and George, who were seated closest to the doorway, were staring at the obvious dent in Remus's skull with sad, oddly knowing expressions.

_Holy shit, they know_, Tonks thought, gasping. _Goddamned Extendable Ears, why the hell did they eavesdrop?_

She looked around at the rest of the teenagers, all of whom were looking at their professor intently.

_Because they care about him too_, she realized, answering her own question. Lily, unaware that there was no need for secrecy anymore, gently steered Remus out of the room.

"Let's go into the sitting room," she said. "I'll check how you're healing before you have breakfast. Tonks, could you make up a plate for him?"

Tonks nodded, watching as James and Lily guided Remus across the hall. She turned back to find everyone else still staring at her. Sirius was grinning maniacally.

_Oh boy, here we go_, she thought, steeling herself.

"So… _Dora_," her idiot cousin said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. She shot him a deadly glare before grabbing two plates from the counter. Maybe if she ignored him…

"You two seem awfully… _chummy_," he continued, his voice strained with amusement. She stalked back to the table, sitting down in the only available space, with Bill on one side and Sirius's four-year old daughter, Rosa, on the other. Determinedly ignoring everyone else, she began piling Remus's plate high with pancakes and sausages. She glanced up to find Molly sitting directly across from her. The Weasley matriarch was staring at her oddly, as though she didn't quite know what to think of this pink-haired girl she had known for 18 years.

Ginny's voice entered the conversation.

"Where were you this morning, Tonks?" she asked, her voice innocent but her eyes mischievous as she sipped her tea. Tonks stared fixedly at the toast she was buttering.

"What do you mean? I was in the bathroom, is that a crime?"

"We heard you talking in Professor Lupin's room!" Hannah burst out, before clapping a hand to her mouth and shooting Tonks an apologetic look. The room, which had begun to fill with genial chatter again, fell silent. Everyone turned to stare at Tonks, and she felt her cheeks burning. Most people were looking at her in outright amusement. Sirius looked like Christmas had come early. But Molly looked absolutely mortified.

"Nymphadora Tonks!" she cried. "I will _not_ have that sort of behavior in this house! Honestly, I expected more from you!"

The red-haired woman stood, stalking to the sink as she started to clear plates rather violently with her wand. Tonks watched several bowls fly into the sink with a loud clatter. No wonder all the tableware at the Burrow looked rather worse for wear. Molly was, unfortunately, not done shouting.

"He is _significantly _older than you are, he was your _professor_ for Merlin's sake! You need to be _careful_, dear! Normal men can be bad enough, but he's a _werewolf_. Who _knows_ what he might – "

"MOLLY!"

Tonks had had quite enough. By the several voices that had joined her in outcry, it sounded like she was not the only one. The Weasley children were staring daggers at their mother, and she looked quite taken aback.

"Well, I'm sorry dear, but you just don't know, do you? You know him as a teacher, as a friend maybe… but you just don't know what he's capable of when it comes to - "

"I went to Remus's room this morning because I heard him having a _nightmare_," Tonks ground out, appalled that it had gotten to the point where she actually needed to explain this. "I woke him up, and I _talked_ to him. _Nothing. Happened_."

She paused, breathing heavily. For a second, Tonks flashed back to the terrifying moment when Remus had pinned her to the bed. In a way, Molly did actually have a point – Tonks really _didn't_ know what Remus was capable of. But Molly didn't need to know that.

"For Merlin's sake, Molly, he's a _person_!" Tonks continued. "Isn't he allowed to have _feelings_, like everyone else?"

There was a long silence, broken only by the steady drip of tap water onto the dishes in the sink. Molly had the good grace to look mildly chagrined.

"I hope you're all happy now," Tonks said bitterly. "Now that we've invaded Remus's privacy _again_. And for your information, Molly, he is _not_ significantly older than I am, he's only _twenty-two_."

"Well, twenty-three soon."

The hoarse voice made more than one person jump. Molly gave a small shriek and turned around, coming face to face with Remus, who had just returned from the sitting room. He took one look at her apprehensive face and stepped back, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders, obviously trying not to look intimidating. The sight was heartbreaking.

"You must be Mrs. Weasley," he mumbled to his shoes. Molly, who was still trying to regain her breath, said nothing. Remus shifted uncomfortably on his feet, taking another small step backwards.

"I… I apologize for making such a scene on your lawn yesterday," he said, looking up at her tentatively. "I can't thank you enough for letting me stay here. And don't worry, I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

"Oh no, you won't!" Lily said forcefully, coming in the door behind him. "You're staying right here until you're fully healed, or there will be hell to pay."

She looked at Molly, only just noticing the blatant tension in the room. The older woman was staring at Remus with wide eyes. Tonks couldn't understand how she had accepted Alex so easily, but now stood looking at Remus like he was Fenrir Greyback himself. Yes, he had looked and acted pretty feral the day before. But he was practically unrecognizable now – clean-shaven and well-groomed, wearing her own son's clothing. Couldn't she at least make an effort, instead of just standing there looking petrified?

Lily, realizing that Molly was not going to snap out of it anytime soon, took Remus's arm and steered him gently to Tonks, sitting him down between her and little Rosa. Lily turned back to Molly, adding her warning glare to the multitude of dirty looks being cast at the plump woman. Molly, looking quite uncomfortable, turned to the sink and began washing dishes ferociously.

Remus, who had been watching all these silent exchanges in bewildered confusion, looked down at Tonks. Seeing her still flushed and upset features, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?" he asked quietly. He obviously had not been listening to their conversation before he reentered the kitchen. She shook her head.

"It's nothing," she mumbled, pushing his plate towards him. "Eat up, before it gets cold."

His eyes widened.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of food," he said, then winced and looked guiltily down at the tiny girl sitting next to him.

"Any chance you didn't hear what I just said?" he asked her seriously. She stared up at him, bright blue eyes wide and curious. She shrugged, and he sighed.

"Great."

"Remus, meet Rosa," Sirius said from further down the table. "She's my daughter."

His voice was proud, and Remus smiled at him before looking back down at the black-haired girl. He held out a hand.

"Pleased to meet you, little Rosa," he said. She giggled, and put her tiny hand in his large one. He shook it seriously. Rosa was examining his features intently, chewing absentmindedly on a small piece of toast.

"Why do you have lines?"

Remus, who had just taken a large bite of pancake, looked back at her, startled. He swallowed quickly.

"Sorry?" he said in confusion.

"Why do you have lines?" she repeated, reaching up with a small hand and touching the scars that traced down his left cheek. He stared at her, eyes wide.

"Rosa honey, it's not polite to touch people without their permission!" Marlene said from her other side, shooting Remus an apologetic glance as she pulled Rosa's hand away from his face. The action seemed to break him out of his stunned stupor.

"It – it's alright," he said. "She just startled me, that's all. You must be Marlene?"

Remus was quickly introduced to everyone he didn't know. Tonks's mood slowly began to improve as she listened to his quiet, hoarse voice, and felt the warmth of his shoulder occasionally brush hers. She was beginning to feel quite happy as she poured him a cup of tea. Maybe he would stay in England for a few days; perhaps he would stay with Sirius in London where she could visit him…

Remus had been pulled into a debate about the Greek Quidditch team. He flashed her a grateful smile and reached for the teacup absentmindedly. Before his fingers could wrap around the handle, however, the back of his hand brushed against the silver sugar bowl.

Letting out a surprised hiss of pain, he jerked his hand back, spilling some tea onto the table. Harry, who had been extolling the virtues of the Greek Seeker, faltered and looked at him in concern. But Remus was actually grinning, shaking his head in wonder.

"I – I _felt_ it!" he said excitedly. "I actually felt it, before it really started to burn! This is bloody incredible."

He was examining the tiny red burn on the back of his hand, eyes bright with joy, unaware that the others were staring at him with varying degrees of horror. Remus looked down at Tonks, and she found it difficult to keep tears out her eyes in the face of his excitement. Harry forged on with what he had been saying, and everyone tried to pretend that it was normal for Remus to feel so happy about such an awful thing.

Frank and Alice arrived when Remus was on his third plate of pancakes. The young man looked up at them and grinned, jumping to his feet to wrap Alice in a grateful hug. Food had obviously done him good – he was already looking stronger and healthier.

"I come bearing exciting news," Frank said, smiling broadly as everyone looked up at him. "I've just been in to see Mad-Eye, and the old codger let slip that they're going to have a Triwizard Tournament this year!"

There was a brief, shocked silence, and then the room reverberated with excited cheers and shouted questions.

"Is it at Hogwarts?"

"Are they still only going to let seventh years enter?"

"When does it start?"

Frank held up his hands placatingly.

"I don't know all that much about it yet, but it _is_ going to be at Hogwarts," he said, to a chorus of cheers. "And I believe it will start right in September – Mad-Eye is already figuring out the security for it."

The news had everyone talking animatedly, and Remus turned to Tonks in confusion.

"What's a Triwizard Tournament?" he asked.

"It's a competition between the three European wizarding schools," she said. "Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang."

She could have sworn that he paled slightly at the mention of the Russian school, but the look of panic was gone so quickly that she figured she must have imagined it.

"The seventh years from those schools will come to Hogwarts for the year, and one student from each school is chosen to compete in a series of magical challenges. Whoever wins gets the Triwizard Cup."

His eyebrows were raised.

"Why?" he asked simply. She shrugged.

"It's a tradition," she said, knowing it wasn't a particularly good reason. "There hasn't been a tournament in about fifty years – one of the Champions died fighting a manticore, and the Ministry had a fit. I wonder why they're reviving it now… Damn, I wish I was still in school for it!"

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking a large gulp of tea.

"Well, _I'm_ glad you're not still in school…" he said, trailing off awkwardly. She looked over at him, her heart suddenly doing flip-flops in her chest. He was avoiding her gaze, staring resolutely into his teacup, cheeks slightly flushed. Screwing up her courage, she reached for his hand underneath the table. At the contact, he looked up, his eyes searching hers intently.

"Oy!"

The loud voice of Fred Weasley broke through the ruckus of the room.

"It's Harry and Neville's big day, what are we doing cooped up in here? My dear sirs," he said, bowing low to the two birthday boys. "What wouldst thou have us do?"

"Quidditch?" George suggested.

"Swimming?"

"Setting off copious amounts of fireworks?"

"Testing our new aging potion at the local pub?"

"_Fred! George!_"

With maniacal laughs that sounded disturbingly like Sirius, both boys raced for the door, avoiding their mother's wrath.

"Come on, you lot!" George shouted over his shoulder. Tonks watched in amusement as most of the teenagers and younger children piled out of the kitchen after them, scattering in different directions and filling the house with excited shouting and pounding footsteps as they prepared for a day spent in the hot July sun. The kitchen felt incredibly quiet after their departure. Only little Rosa and the adults remained, and Tonks looked up at Remus curiously, her hand still in his under the table.

"Want to go outside?" she asked him, and he nodded.

"Sure," he said, before grabbing her empty plate and stacking it on top of his. Piling up several more dishes, he carried them over to the sink where Molly was still furiously cleaning. The red-haired woman could easily have done the dishes with magic, but Tonks suspected that she was desperate for something to keep her mind and eyes off the werewolf sitting in her kitchen.

Remus approached her cautiously, setting the plates down on the counter next to her with care.

"Can I do anything to help, Mrs. Weasley?" he asked softly. She glanced over at him, and shook her head rapidly.

"No thank you," she said quickly, her voice unnaturally high and nervous. He gave a small nod, his eyes resigned, and looked back at Tonks, jerking his head towards the door. She stood and walked to join him, surprised when she heard small footsteps behind her. Rosa was running forward, and Remus watched with wide eyes as the little girl skidded to a stop beside him, reaching up and putting her tiny hand in his once more.

"Can I come with you?" she asked quietly. Remus gaped at her for a long moment, then looked up at Sirius, his eyes lost. The black-haired man was grinning proudly.

"It's alright with me," he said. "Marlene?"

His wife smiled. "Just make sure she's wearing sunscreen."

Tonks smiled broadly as Remus looked down at Rosa.

"Well, looks like you're stuck with me, kid," he said, his eyes shining with quiet joy. He reached down and picked her up, settling her easily on his hip.

"Come on, let's go see what the big kids are up to."

And they left the kitchen, leaving behind grinning former Order members, and a very conflicted Molly Weasley.

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	25. Chapter 24

Charlie Weasley found it infinitely funny that Remus Lupin was a professor at Hogwarts. Whenever he heard one of his younger siblings referring to his friend as 'Professor Lupin', he had to work hard not to laugh. Charlie had first met Remus at an underground Dark Creature pub in Bucharest, when the young werewolf was just about to lose a drinking contest with two hags. The man had vomited all over Charlie's shoes, and somehow in the midst of all the apologizing and drunken _scourgify_ attempts, the two young men became fast friends. Remus had gone on to help out with several problematic dragons, and the rest of Charlie's team had adopted him as one of their own. Charlie and Remus had once had a Firewhiskey-induced Celestina Warbeck singalong on the top of a mountain in Turkey, so it was not surprising that, of all the people at the Burrow today, he was the only one who could say exactly what everybody else was thinking.

"You have got it _bad_, mate."

Remus looked over at him in confusion. They were sitting on the grass next to the lake near the Burrow, watching some of their companions jumping off the dock into the water. Charlie, Bill, Harry, Ron, Draco, and Neville were lounging in the mid-afternoon sunlight, shirtless, drying off after a long Quidditch marathon and a subsequent swim. Remus sat beside them, elbows on his knees, still wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He had spent most of the day entertaining the younger children with silly games that he and Tonks had invented on the spot. His partner in crime was now on the dock, making sure that Rosa's personal flotation spell was working properly. Tonks was wearing a bright pink bikini, and Charlie was not the only one who had noticed how often Remus's eyes drifted to her slim figure as she frolicked before them.

"I've got it bad?" Remus repeated, mystified.

"For _Tonks_!" Charlie said loudly, and Remus went bright red, turning his gaze abruptly to the ground between his feet, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. Charlie laughed good-naturedly.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, mate, you've got bloody good taste," he said, smiling over at his friend. "She was three years behind me at Hogwarts, so not really on my radar. But I'll bet half the blokes in school wanted to ask her out. Funny as hell, a damned good Quidditch player… the Metamorphmagus bit didn't hurt either."

Remus looked at him sharply, and Charlie was surprised by the amount of fury in his gaze. He opened his mouth, and Charlie raised his hands in premature surrender.

"Hey, not on my radar, remember? She's like my little sister, I'd get pretty angry too if some bloke asked her to morph for him or some bullshit. I'm just telling you like it is. There are a lot of assholes out there. That's why I think a lot of us would be really happy to see her with a guy like you."

The anger seeped out of Remus's gaze, and was quickly replaced with clouded pain and self-hatred. Charlie suppressed a sigh. _Here we go_.

"A guy like me?" Remus said softly, picking at the grass absentmindedly and throwing it forward onto his bare feet. He gave a dark chuckle. "I can't give her _anything_, Charlie, and she deserves _everything_. I couldn't marry her, I couldn't give her children – at least _healthy_ ones… hell, I can't even promise I'm going to be _alive_ tomorrow!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Charlie called out, raising a hand to halt what was bound to turn into a long rant. He sat up fully, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Whoever said anything about _marriage_, or _children_?" he said, letting out a small laugh. "Mate, Tonks is _eighteen_. She's got a good ten years before her body starts screaming at her to start popping out mini-Tonks's. She's got a lot of living to do between now and then. You wouldn't _deprive_ her of anything by going over there right now and snogging her senseless. In fact, I think she'd be quite happy with the arrangement."

"And a lot can happen in ten years, Remus," chimed in Bill, who was still lying on his back, his arm thrown casually over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "Laws change, people change. Who knows, maybe you _will_ be able to marry her."

Remus shook his head, looking incredibly torn.

"She deserves someone who isn't going to put her in danger. Someone who isn't going to jeopardize her career and her physical well-being. Someone she can make plans with, someone who isn't…"

"A werewolf?" Charlie finished sadly. Remus nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin line. The poor grass between his feet was almost completely torn apart. Charlie sighed.

"Look mate, it's up to you. All I know is that Tonks is one tough cookie. And she likes you a lot."

He watched as Remus raised his gaze to the dock, hazel eyes finding Tonks easily. Bill sat up, letting out a slight grunt at the motion.

"Besides, Remus," he said, shooting the younger man a mischievous grin. "If you're not sure you're going to be alive tomorrow, then you'd bloody well be shagging like today is your last day on earth."

Remus turned bright red. He glanced over at his four students quickly, before shooting Bill a dirty look.

"Come on, mate," he said. "I'm still their teacher, can you at least _try_ not to destroy the remaining tatters of my professional image?"

Charlie snorted, and he heard similar noises echoing from the four boys beside him. Harry, who was lying on his stomach with his head pillowed on his folded arms, called out in a muffled voice, "Already gone, Professor!"

His companions laughed. Remus chuckled despite himself, rubbing his chin ruefully.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, and stared absently into space for a moment, in deep thought. Suddenly, he clambered to his feet.

"Think I'll go see how Rosa's doing," he said casually. No one was fooled. Harry, Ron, Draco, and Neville sat up and joined Bill and Charlie as they watched the young man amble down to the dock, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his borrowed jeans. He glanced back, flashing them a rude hand gesture when he saw them all grinning maniacally at him. The boys laughed uproariously, and Charlie lounged back on his elbows, preparing for an entertaining show.

Tonks and Rosa had just climbed the ladder that led from the water up onto the dock. Seeing her new favorite playmate, Rosa ran forward, her cry of '_Ray! Ray!'_ echoing across the lake. Remus bent over and swung her up into his arms, obviously unconcerned by the fact that she was sopping wet. He spoke to her animatedly, his words impossible to distinguish from a distance, and she nodded back in excitement. He put her down, and she raced to the end of the dock, leaping off into the water with a fairly impressive diving form. Remus laughed and applauded as she came back to the surface, spitting out water happily.

Charlie watched as Tonks came up beside Remus, grinning. He turned to look down at her, and his smile softened, his eyes drinking her in. Charlie wondered if he had any idea how obvious his affections were. Tonks was jerking her head at the water, probably asking whether Remus was planning on taking a dip as well. The young man shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously again. He turned back to check on Rosa, his lips moving in conversation. But Tonks had gotten a familiar, mischievous look on her face. Without warning, she launched herself at the unsuspecting man, wrapping her arms around his waist and using her momentum to carry them both off the end of the dock. Charlie heard Remus give a shout of surprise that was swiftly silenced when they plunged into the water with a splash.

Charlie let out a bark of laughter. If anyone could break through Remus's armor, it was Tonks. And watching her try was bound to be highly amusing.

* * *

Tonks surfaced, shaking pink hair out of her eyes, grinning evilly at the sodden young man who was now treading water beside her. He tried – and failed – to look angry.

"You are in _big_ trouble," he said, his lips quirking up into a mischievous smile. He splashed her and she shrieked, covering her face with her hands. Before she could retaliate, she felt a long arm snake around her waist, and suddenly he was tickling her. She struggled against him, laughing uncontrollably.

"Stop it! _Stop_, I'm ticklish!"

"I _know_ you are," he chuckled, continuing his merciless assault. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and met his laughing eyes with her own. He stopped tickling her abruptly, and simply held her against him with one arm. The lake bottom was too deep for her to touch, but he was standing on it while she floated against him. Almost instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, tethering herself to his fully-clothed frame. She saw him wince slightly in pain, and she suddenly remembered that he was still healing. Murmuring an apology, she began to separate herself, but two strong hands on her waist suddenly held her in place. She looked at him in surprise. His hair was wet and mussed, and his pupils were dilated as he looked at her intensely. His breath was fast and shallow, and she realized with a thrill of pleasure that this must be the first time he was truly able to feel a woman's body against him. His calloused hands were warm and steady on her waist, and her breath caught as his eyes dropped to her mouth. And suddenly, one of his hands was reaching around the back of her neck, guiding her down to meet his lips roughly. His mouth was warm in contrast to the cool water around them, and she gave a small moan as his tongue swept across hers.

Things probably would have progressed fairly rapidly, if the wolf-whistles and encouraging shouts around them hadn't reached a pitch they could no longer ignore. Remus pulled back, suddenly looking incredibly embarrassed that he had lost control like that in front of so many people. But Tonks took his face in her hands, smiling down at him.

"Hey," she said, waiting until his anguished eyes rose to meet hers tentatively. "Don't pay any attention to them. They're just jealous that _I _get to kiss you, and they don't."

Remus raised an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement despite himself. He still looked torn, though, and Tonks felt his hands tighten on her waist as he glanced back down at the lips he so obviously wanted to taste again.

"I'm no good for you, Dora," he said softly. "I can't give you the things you deserve."

"Like what?" Tonks said seriously. "A ring on my finger? A house with a picket fence and a boring life?"

"Safety," he said simply, his hazel eyes boring into hers. "Stability. The promise that I'll always be there. Children who don't have a fifty percent chance of inheriting my condition."

Nymphadora Tonks was a smart woman. She had also spent the past three months thinking through all the reasons why Remus Lupin was being an idiot. Hence why she had answers to each and every problem he could possibly come up with.

"First of all, Remus," she began, her legs still firmly hooked around his waist, "I'm an Auror cadet. My life isn't going to be safe, with or without you. Nor stable, come to think of it. As for children, I have absolutely no desire to even think about that right now. But even if it works out in the future, I don't think I would mind having multi-colored werewolf cubs."

She smiled at his shocked expression. She was getting quite good at rendering him speechless.

"Yet another reason why you should let us _help _with this damned noble crusade of yours," she teased. His mouth was slightly open as he gaped at her, and she seized the opportunity to place a swift, thorough kiss on his lips. Giggling, she pulled free from his arms, turning to sweep Rosa up into a hug as the small girl paddled towards them. The black-haired child had obviously decided that her favorite playmates had had quite enough alone time, and had come to demand their attention again.

Showering Rosa with kisses, Tonks looked up to find Hermione, Ginny, and Hannah grinning at her from their seats on the edge of the dock. They looked positively giddy, and as Tonks glanced around, she realized that they were not the only teenagers staring at her with glee in their eyes. Glancing back at Remus – whose cheeks were bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze – she couldn't help but laugh. The poor man. His current students had just witnessed him emphatically making out with one of his former students. Tonks was willing to bet that this would only increase Remus's legendary status at Hogwarts, but she was not surprised to see him silently berating himself.

"Come on, you," she called out to him, smiling encouragingly as he looked up. "Rosa and I are challenging you to a diving contest."

He gave a shy smile, and swam over to join her as she helped Rosa climb the ladder onto the dock. Tonks followed, and turned around as Remus climbed up behind her. His soaking wet clothes clung to him, and Tonks's mouth went slightly dry as she got a very up close and personal view of the body she had just been pressed against. She could have sworn that he had gained muscle mass since this morning. She knew that werewolves healed quickly, and were much stronger than normal humans, but _damn_ this was just not fair. How was she supposed to concentrate when he looked like this? She cleared her throat, and tried to will her voice to remain casual.

"You… you might want to change into a bathing suit…"

He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking.

"You could have said that _before_ you assaulted me and tossed me in the lake, you know."

She blushed.

"Yeah, well, element of surprise and all," she said, grinning at him.

"You look silly, Ray," Rosa said bluntly, looking up at him with her tiny hands on her hips. He mirrored her posture teasingly, and the little girl giggled. He smiled down at her.

"Go on, show me your dive again," he said. She raced to the end of the dock and leapt into the lake, her hands slicing expertly through the water. Resurfacing, she grinned as they cheered for her. Tonks turned to Remus.

"Your turn."

His grin broadened, and he began sauntering towards the end of the dock.

"Prepare to be thoroughly impressed," he said over his shoulder with an air of feigned confidence. Tonks's laughter died on her lips abruptly. It was replaced with an involuntary cry of horror.

Remus's white t-shirt was stuck to his torso like a second skin. His chest was covered in a large Weird Sisters logo, but the back of the white shirt was nearly transparent in the late afternoon light. As he walked away from her, Tonks got a very good look at the collage of scar tissue that traced across his back.

She suddenly felt nauseous. She could make out thin, pale lines of claw marks; the smooth, puckered skin of old burns; the telltale half-moon rings of tooth marks… and those were only the ones she could identify. There were horrible, misshapen scars from who knows what, and his left shoulder looked like it had been blown apart and then sewn back together again.

At her cry, he turned back around, raising an eyebrow at her quizzically. He obviously had no idea how exposed his back was. She was frozen, horrified, and his gaze became concerned.

"What's wrong?"

He looked around, instinctively searching for any signs of a threat, and Tonks struggled to snap herself out of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione, Ginny, and Hannah – who were sitting on the edge of the dock behind Remus – also staring at him, horror-stricken.

By the time Remus looked back at her – finished with his fruitless scan for what had scared her – Tonks had managed to plaster on a fake smile. He stared at her, utterly confused.

"It's nothing," she said, her cheerful voice sounding forced even to her own ears. "Just… cramps, that's all. My time of the month."

She made a show of rubbing her lower stomach, and he blushed, looking uncomfortable. For the first time ever, Tonks was grateful for the fact that almost every member of the male species was completely terrified of the female menstrual cycle. He asked no more questions, shuffling his feet nervously and running a hand through his wet, spiky hair.

"Oh," he mumbled intelligently, then turned around and ran to the end of the dock, doing a front flip before landing in the water with an ungraceful splash. Tonks walked shakily to join the three girls and collapsed beside them, sitting with her legs dangling off the dock. She willed her face into a more normal expression as Remus resurfaced, shaking water out of his eyes.

"I don't actually know how to dive," he said ruefully. "That was all I could come up with."

He smiled at her, and she returned it weakly. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze shifted to the three girls beside her, and Tonks realized that they were still staring at him in mute horror.

"Well, I guess it's my turn, then!" she said loudly, breaking the silence. She clambered to her feet, fighting off a wave of dizziness. _Breathing_, she thought. _Breathing is a thing I should do_.

She had _known_ that he would have scars. She had known that he lived a hard life. But knowing it, and actually seeing the _evidence_ of it were two very different things. His earlier reluctance to go swimming suddenly made a lot of sense. Everyone else was in bathing suits, soaking in the summer sun. But the cruelty of the world was etched into his very skin, and he was clearly not too keen on exposing it.

Tonks's mouth set determinedly. She wasn't going to take no for an answer. It was about damned time that Remus Lupin started experiencing the _good_ things that life had to offer.

She leapt into the lake, cannonballing shamelessly. Clumsiness and diving did not tend to go hand in hand. She surfaced, and splashed Remus as he laughed at her.

"That was even worse than mine," he teased. "Rosa definitely wins this competition."

He looked around, his eyes finding Rosa playing a little ways off with her older brother, Regulus. Smiling at the little girl's shrieks of laughter, he didn't notice that Tonks was swimming towards him until the young woman wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked down at her in surprise, his eyes widening as she slipped her hands underneath his shirt. Warm skin greeted her, and she swept her palms tentatively across his lower stomach and back, letting her fingers ghost along tense muscles. His eyes snapped shut and he moaned in the back of his throat, his breathing fast and labored. His hands gripped her waist so tightly it was almost painful.

"Dora, I don't…" he began to protest weakly, his eyes opening to look at her apprehensively as her fingers traced one of the raised scars on his back. His gaze was achingly vulnerable.

"Shhh…" she whispered soothingly, continue to run her hands across his skin.

He growled deeply, burying his nose in the sensitive skin under her ear. "If you don't stop doing that, I…"

He trailed off, letting out a huff of breath against her neck. She almost fell apart in his arms when she felt his lips trailing lightly down her neck, finally kissing her shoulder reverently.

"Oy! Get a room!"

The amused voice of one of the Weasley twins rang out across the water, and Tonks felt Remus smile into the crook of her shoulder. His deep chuckle reverberated through her entire body, and she did an internal victory dance when – instead of pulling away from her, embarrassed – he wrapped his arms around her fully, pulling her flush against him. She blushed when she felt exactly how turned on he was by her advances.

"You _do_ realize that you're not playing fair," he rumbled into her ear. "Lily gave me another dose of that potion, and now I can hardly _think_ when you touch me. I'm like a walking pile of hormones."

She grinned, pulling her head back to look up at him.

"Hate to break it to you, love, but _all_ men are walking piles of hormones," she said. "Welcome to the club."

He smirked at her.

"Oh? And does this knowledge come from experience?"

His smile was mischievous as she pinched his side.

"Oy!" she said, pretending to be scandalized. "I'll have you know that I dated the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for a whole _month_ once! I have plenty of experience with men!"

She sniffed, turning her nose up at him, and he chuckled, reaching his left hand up to cup her cheek.

"Well, you certainly know what you're doing with _me_," he said softly, and he kissed her. It felt different than the other times – more controlled, more tender, as though this was the first time he had actually _decided_ to kiss her, instead of just losing control of his impulses. His lips glided across hers, and she sighed happily into his mouth as he explored every inch of her. Instinctively, her hands drifted higher underneath his shirt, desperate to feel more of his body. His right hand slid down her back, pulling her even closer to him, and Tonks spared a moment to be just a tiny bit embarrassed that they were making out in front of everyone again. At least they were shoulder deep in the lake, so nobody could see what their hands were doing…

They finally surfaced for air, both gasping. Remus leaned his forehead against hers, and his lips began to pull into a tentative, achingly hopeful smile.

"I do believe you're starting to convince me, Nymphadora Tonks," he said softly. Her heart leapt, and she had to restrain herself from pumping her fist into the air in triumph.

"Oh?" she said, with impressive control. He nodded against her, swallowing thickly.

"I still think you don't really know what you're getting into, but… if you seriously want to saddle yourself with a hormonal werewolf with anger issues, and you honestly think you can deal with all the awful bullshit that comes along with me…"

He pulled back, looking at her seriously. She stared back at him, eyes determined, and he suddenly grinned.

"… then I guess we could give it a try."

Tonks stared at him, her throat closing up with emotion. To her horror, she felt her eyes welling up with tears. He pulled her back to his chest, looking concerned.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

She let out a small sob, feeling incredibly stupid. Clutching at his shirt desperately, she finally managed to explain, laughing through her tears.

"It's just… if I'd known that all I had to do to convince you was blatantly feel you up, then I would have done it back in bloody _February_."

He let out a surprised bark of laughter.

"February? You've liked me for that long?"

She shrugged.

"Probably longer," she muttered, feeling even sillier. He chuckled.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I've liked you since the moment you fell through the door of my classroom, smelling like a bloody swamp."

Happiness the likes of which Tonks had never felt before coursed through her entire body. She craned her neck to look up at him.

"Really?" she asked quietly. He nodded, smiling.

"Yep," he said. "Entirely inappropriate, I know. Dumbledore should fire me. It's actually very good that I couldn't feel much of anything while I was your professor, or I would have been in big trouble. I had a lot more control, my brain was getting a bit more blood than it is now."

She laughed, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I think I know where all the blood is going now," she said, unable to suppress a nervous giggle. He groaned, tickling her side briefly in retaliation.

"Sorry about that. Merlin, this is mortifying," he said, his voice amused in spite of himself. "I'm not going to be able to get out of the water for a while…"

"I'll keep you company," she offered. He chuckled.

"Somehow I don't think that's going to help…"

"_If you two are quite finished making babies over there, dinner's ready!_"

Sirius's loud, unapologetically explicit shout echoed across the water, and they looked over to find him standing on the shore next to Charlie and Bill. All three of them were grinning evilly at the pair, and Tonks laughed out loud. Almost all the teenagers and children had gotten out of the lake already, and were busy drying themselves off in the late afternoon sunlight, shooting occasional fond glances at the two lovebirds still in the water.

Tonks looked up at Remus, still firmly ensconced in his arms.

"You okay to get out?"

He gave her a small grimace.

"You go ahead. I'll swim it off for a bit."

She nodded, and kissed him lightly before pulling away, swimming back to the shore where Sirius waited with a towel. She accepted it, primly ignoring him as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, _that_ didn't take long," he said, grinning.

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," she said, watching as Remus swam out into the lake with steady, powerful strokes.

"Oh, I believe it," Sirius said. She looked over at him. He was watching Remus too. After a moment, he turned to her, his eyes suddenly serious.

"Be careful, cuz," he said quietly. "He's a good man, one of the best I've ever known. But he's also got some serious issues. I know he'd never intentionally do anything to hurt you, and I know you can handle yourself, but… just be careful, alright?"

Tonks looked at her cousin for a long moment. Sirius quite often drove her absolutely insane, but she had always known that he cared about her. It had never been more apparent than it was now. She reached over and squeezed his arm, smiling gratefully.

"I will, Sirius," she said. "Thanks for caring."

She turned back just in time to see Remus pulling himself out of the water onto the dock, not even bothering to use the ladder. Even from a distance, she could see the clearly defined muscles in his arms as he practically launched himself out of the lake. She barely managed to restrain a sigh. Sirius chuckled, and clapped her on the shoulder.

"I have a feeling your sex life is about to become _much_ more exciting," he said, winking mischievously at her before turning to join the others as they headed back to the Burrow. She gaped after him, stunned at his nerve.

Suddenly, there was a large hand on her hip. Turning around, she looked up to meet Remus's tentative eyes. He had obviously seen her talking to Sirius.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. She nodded quickly.

"Yeah, just Sirius being his usual vulgar self."

Instead of the smile she had been expecting, he frowned, his gaze turning towards the Burrow almost fearfully. In a split second, she read his mind.

"Nobody's going to give a shit, Remus," she said confidently. "In fact, I think they'll all be pretty happy about us. Well, except for Molly, but she'll come round. Alex managed to win her over in about thirty seconds, so I don't think you'll have any trouble."

He looked down at her, and she could see the ghost of his earlier misgivings in his eyes. She hooked two of her fingers into his belt, pulling him towards her. His clothes were expertly spell dried and cleaned.

"Hey," she said. "Don't you go all 'noble prat' on me again. You deserve _happiness_. And the people in there," she jerked her head toward the Burrow, "know that just as well as I do. So stop worrying, and just let yourself be happy, okay?"

He swallowed, looking at her intently. Then, after a long moment, he nodded, a smile gradually returning to his lips.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, leaning down and kissing her lightly. She smiled into him, and laced her fingers with his.

"Come on," she said, starting to lead him towards the house. "Let's get you fed. We're going to the Hogsmeade Music Festival tonight, and you're going to need your strength for some serious dancing."

* * *

**Yayy :) I know, that escalated quickly. But the dude has functioning nerve endings for the first time in his memory, can you blame him for wanting to use them? Anyway, hope you liked it. Next chapter, some more excitement and drama! Thanks so much for the reviews guys :)**


	26. Chapter 25

It didn't surprise Tonks to learn that Remus had never been to a concert before. Over dinner, when she and her companions described the thousands of young witches and wizards from all over the world who descended upon Hogsmeade for the weekend, he paled considerably, and finally confessed that he had never seen anywhere close to that number of people in the same place. At the time, Tonks and the other teenagers had only been appalled at all the fun he had missed out on. But now, as Tonks led Remus across the trampled field towards the gyrating sea of intoxicated people in front of the spectacularly lit stage, she began to wonder if it had been a mistake to bring him here.

The place was crawling with security. Aurors raced every which way, subduing drunken brawls and generally attempting to instill order amidst chaos. Tonks felt her heart rise to her throat sickeningly when she saw a familiar, huge man stalking through the crowds, his gray eyes alert and wary, his chest emblazoned with a silver WCU.

She turned around abruptly and Remus ran into her, his hands shooting out instinctively to steady her as gravity threatened to pull her to the ground.

"Turn around," she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Turn around, we're going back to the Burrow. This was a stupid idea."

Remus's brow furrowed.

"Why? What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, intensely aware that his hands had drifted to her waist.

"There are WCU people here," she whispered. He had to bend his head to hear her over the din of the music and the screams of the crowd. At her words, his eyes scanned their surroundings surreptitiously, quickly finding the man she had encountered at the Ministry. His features darkened.

"Marcus Belfry."

"You _know_ him?" She was on the verge of a heart attack. What if this Marcus bastard _recognized_ Remus?

"I've seen him before," Remus said, and – noting the panicked look on her face – he managed a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he's never seen _me_."

Tonks shook her head, her heart beating a tattoo against her ribcage.

"Let's just get out of here, okay? It's not that important, it's just a dumb concert, it's not worth the risk – "

His hand on her cheek stopped her nervous rant. She looked up to find him smiling at her.

"Hey," he said softly. "This isn't my first rodeo. I know how to avoid the WCU, I'm not _completely_ useless."

She snorted. He was _far_ from useless.

"This is something you've been looking forward to for a long time," he continued, "and I want to experience it with you. As long as nobody throws silver at me right in front of Belfry or one of his cronies, there's really nothing to worry about."

She looked up at him, still not entirely convinced.

"You didn't see Belfry at the Ministry a few weeks ago. He's… he's _mental_. I woudn't be surprised if he could _smell_ lycanthropy from a mile away."

To her surprise, Remus let out a barking laugh.

"Marcus Belfry is a raging lunatic, but I can assure you that his olfactory senses are not that refined. He's actually a bit of an idiot, if I remember correctly."

He could clearly tell that she was still nervous.

"Tell you what," he said, his hands tightening on her waist. "How about we join Sirius, James, and Mrs. Weasley on the hill?"

He jerked his head towards the large hill to the east of the stage. Many of the less enthusiastic attendees had gravitated towards its gentle slope, where they could spread out blankets and watch over small children, while also listening to the bands. After making sure that all the teenagers knew they were supposed to meet them on the hill at eleven o'clock exactly, the three adults had wandered in that direction with Rosa and Regulus in tow.

"We can still listen, and we can avoid all the… unpleasantness down here," Remus said. "Honestly, I don't think I'd do very well in there anyway."

He jerked his head towards the densely packed dancing mob.

"It's just too many people. Especially with you… I know we're probably pretty safe here, but… honestly, I don't know what I would do if I thought you were in danger. And I don't want to find out."

He looked mildly embarrassed by this admission, and ducked his head. Tonks suddenly had an overwhelming urge to snog him senseless. Reaching up to curl her hand around the back of his neck, she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. His chest rumbled with pleasure as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. Tonks was finding it very difficult to remember that they were in the middle of a crowded field – especially when Remus's lips drifted down to her neck, his stubble rasping against her sensitive skin. They really should go someplace private…

"Professor Lupin?"

Remus pulled away from her abruptly, and they both turned to find Terry, Clarence, Dennis, and Stan staring at them with identical expressions of shocked glee. The four teenagers were dressed to party, and were clearly rather drunk – though not drunk enough to overlook their friend enthusiastically snogging their former professor.

"Umm…" Remus said intelligently, rubbing the back of his neck.

The only thing Tonks could do was laugh. She snorted, and looked up at Remus. Though the light from the waning moon didn't show colors that well, she was willing to bet that he was beet red. She continued to giggle, and he looked down at her, his mouth starting to twitch despite himself.

"You're no help at all," he said, his voice strained. She was still half in his arms, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, trying to restrain her giggles. He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations through her entire body.

Regaining her breath, she looked over at her four friends, who were now grinning outright.

"Hey guys," she said, forcing herself not laugh again. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I _knew_ it!" Clarence cried. "I _knew_ there was something going on with you two! Professor Lupin was always _looking _at you – no offense, professor –"

"None taken," Remus said, looking amused.

"And then there was that thing in the Great Hall…" Clarence continued. Tonks winced, the mention of that morning bringing back awful memories of how she had treated Remus when she had first learned of his condition. Her hand tightened on the back of his shirt involuntarily, and he tightened his hold on her waist in response. Clarence was still rambling, obviously tipsy.

"… and all the times at practice when you two would go off into your own little world, and then you were always _gushing_ about him in the common room – "

"I was not _gushing_!" Tonks interjected, feeling a furious blush rising on her own cheeks as Remus looked down at her, his eyebrows raised in amused curiosity. "I was merely commenting on his Defense talents, that's all!"

"_Gushing_, eh?" Remus said softly into her ear, tickling her side briefly. She swatted his stomach and he chuckled.

"Oy, watch it, you," she said, grinning.

Her friends were eyeing them with varying degrees of fond amusement and – in Clarence and Terry's case – slight envy. Tonks decided it was time to change the subject.

"Where are you lot off to?" she asked, seeing that they had come from the direction of the dancing mob.

"Three Broomsticks," Stan said, his hands shoved in his pockets. "The next band is shite, so we're going to get another drink. Join us?"

Tonks looked up at Remus, who shrugged.

"Sure!" she said. "Is it okay if we bring some other people too? We came with the Blacks, the Potters, and the Weasleys; they're sitting over there."

She gestured towards the hillside, where she could just make out James, Sirius, and Molly sitting on several blankets they had brought. As they traipsed over, they saw Sirius rising to his feet, Rosa in his arms. He looked up, smiling as they approached.

"Bedtime for little Rosa," he said fondly. "She's falling asleep. Didn't even make it half an hour."

No sooner had he said it, than Rosa opened her eyes and – catching sight of Remus – cried out, "_Ray_!"

She held her little arms out to him, squirming in her father's grasp. Remus – looking quite befuddled by the tiny human who seemed to prefer him over everyone else – looked up at Sirius, who grinned.

"Well, the princess has spoken, and she wants _you_."

With that, Sirius handed his daughter over, laughing as Rosa wrapped herself around Remus like a monkey. The young man's face softened as he looked down at the small girl in his arms. Tonks turned to Sirius, grinning.

"We were going down to the Three Broomsticks for a pint, if any of you want to join us," she said, and Sirius's face lit up.

"I could do with a nip before taking the kids home," he said, then turned to his companions. "Anyone else?"

James and Molly shook their heads.

"Love to mate, but we've got to stay here in case there's some crisis of the teenager variety," James said. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, then gestured to Regulus.

"Come on, Reg," he said. "Time to introduce you to the best pub in England."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were once again squished into a corner booth in the very crowded pub, the sound of the music festival echoing from outside. Only three months had gone by since the last time Tonks had been pressed against Remus on a bench in the Three Broomsticks, but so much had changed since then. They were no longer his students, all the adults had real drinks (Rosmerta had checked all their ages, even Sirius's), and Remus's large, warm hand was resting on Tonks's knee under the table, unleashing butterflies in her stomach. Rosa was sitting on his lap, happily sipping juice. Sirius and Regulus had pulled up chairs at the end of the table, and the eight-year old boy was drinking butterbeer through a straw as he eyed his surroundings curiously.

Upon learning that Sirius worked with Remus in Eastern Europe, Tonks's friends eagerly asked for tales of their escapades. Sirius was all too happy to oblige, ignoring Remus's half-hearted protests.

"Ooh, so many stories, so little time," Sirius said, grinning and rubbing his hands together eagerly. "What should I start with, Moony? The one Alex told us – how you got your nickname?"

"Aagh, nooo," Remus groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall of the booth with a thump. A smirk threatened at his lips though, and Sirius forged ahead with the story, pushing another Firewhiskey towards Remus to soften the blow. After Sirius had reduced the teenagers to tears of helpless laughter, Remus looked up from his glass, his face bright red and his mouth quirking upwards despite himself.

"I'm never going to forgive Alex for telling you lot about that," he said, shaking his head. "Not one of my finer moments…"

"If we're talking about your _finer moments_, we should get Charlie Weasley in here," Sirius said, grinning evilly at his embarrassed friend. "Now _he_ has some stories to tell about you. Did you really have a threesome with two veelas?"

Remus – who had just taken a sip of whiskey – almost hacked up a lung. Rosa, who was sitting placidly on his lap, looked around at him in slight confusion. Everyone else at the table was in peals of laughter, though Tonks couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed, and not the tiniest bit upset. Two veelas? _Really_? If he'd been with two of the most beautiful women in the world, how could she possibly compare?

_I suppose I could morph_… she thought unhappily. The idea made her vaguely sick.

Beside her Remus was still coughing, his eyes watering.

"Bloody hell, Sirius," he said, then grimaced when he realized he had sworn yet again in the presence of young ears. He shook his head, obviously giving up on not corrupting Rosa and Regulus. His blush deepened as everyone continued to chuckle.

"Just for the record, it was only _one_ veela," he said determinedly. "Charlie has a habit of embellishing things. The wingspan of that baby Hungarian Horntail he captured keeps increasing every time I hear the story."

"But it was still a _veela_," Stan asked, his eyes wide with admiration. Remus let out a huff of embarrassed laughter.

"Yes, she was," he said, fiddling with his glass as it sat on the table. "I was drunk, she was drunk, we were all drunk. I'm actually surprised Charlie even _remembers_ that night, he was snoring under the table for most of it."

His words were greeted with laughter, and Remus glanced over at Tonks. Her unhappiness must have been apparent, for he suddenly reached a long arm around her, pulling her close to him.

"Veelas definitely have beauty, but they don't tend to have much in the way of personality or brains," he said casually. "I prefer a woman who has all three."

Warmth spread through Tonks's body, and she couldn't help but grin when she felt his lips brush against her temple. She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her, his hazel eyes achingly tender.

"Yeah, yeah, you two are hopelessly in love, we get it," Sirius said loudly, gesturing for Rosmerta to bring them another round. Tonks and Remus laughed, grinning at each other like idiots.

Another drink or two later, the conversation had shifted to current events at the Ministry – the Auror Department in particular. Sirius was asking the cadets about their training, and what Mad-Eye was like as a teacher.

"Mad-Eye – I mean, Professor Moody," Terry said, smiling nervously at the slip-up, "is a bloody good teacher. I mean, he really knows his stuff. And the rest of 'em work us hard, but… well, they're all in Umbridge's pocket, aren't they?"

Tonks and the other teenagers nodded, and Sirius and Remus glanced at each other. Terry continued.

"Just the other day, one of those arses from Durmstrang made some comment about muggle borns. Just straight up said that they shouldn't be allowed to work for the Ministry, because '_we can't be sure where their loyalties lie'_."

The brown-haired boy took a deep breath, obviously still fuming.

"I swear, I would have rearranged his face right then and there if Clarence hadn't stopped me. Of course, Professor Krum_ agreed_ with him. Spent ten minutes talking about how the presence of half-bloods and Dark Creatures in our society is dangerous and destructive. And all of these other cadets just _lapped it up_ – not your students, obviously, Professor… Professor?"

Everyone turned to look at Remus, who had gone completely white.

"Krum?" he stammered, his voice even more hoarse than usual. "Vladimir Krum?"

Terry nodded, his eyes concerned.

"Yes. He's our physical defense instructor."

"He's also the head of the Werewolf Capture Unit," Stan interjected from the corner, giving Remus a steady, understanding look. Remus shook his head, obviously uncomfortable under everyone's suddenly sympathetic gazes.

"It's fine, I just… didn't know he was teaching kids, that's all."

Terry gave a humorless chuckle.

"He wouldn't be, if Moody had anything to say about it. He's an Umbridge implant. Mad-Eye _hates_ him. I think that's why he was so keen to get _you_ there to teach the Auror cadets."

Sirius looked at Remus sharply.

"What?" he said, shocked. "Mad-Eye asked you to teach at the Auror Department?"

"He didn't know about my condition," Remus explained. "Once I told him, he understood why I didn't want to do it. But now – maybe I… Merlin, I just can't believe Krum is teaching kids."

His last sentence was practically whispered, his face partially buried in Rosa's black hair. Sirius looked at him in concern.

"Do you _know_ Krum?"

Remus raised his head, looking at Sirius with incredibly haunted eyes.

"We've met. Once. It was almost six years ago now, and I was… well, I wasn't really myself. I doubt he'd recognize me."

He took a long swig of beer, avoiding everyone's eyes. Sirius shifted in his seat, clearing his throat.

"Well, let's make sure he never gets the _chance_ to recognize you, okay? I know it's bloody infuriating that he's teaching others to think the same way that he does… but if you went into the Ministry, you'd only get yourself killed, or _worse_."

Remus nodded, his eyes fixed resolutely on the tabletop.

"I know, mate. Believe me, I know."

There was a long, solemn silence. Everyone stared into their respective drinks, unsure of what to say next. Finally, the silence was broken by a soft chuckle. Remus was smiling down at the tiny girl on his lap. She had fallen asleep, leaning back against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. His right arm was still wrapped around Tonks's shoulders, but his left had come up to hold Rosa tightly.

"I think someone's tired," he said quietly, and Sirius smiled fondly at his daughter.

"Yes, it's definitely past her bedtime," he said, laying a few galleons on the table to pay for their drinks. He waved away the sickles and knuts they offered him, and turned to Regulus, ruffling the boy's black hair affectionately.

"Past _your _bedtime too, mate," he said, and the boy smiled shyly. Regulus was a quiet kid, kind and sensitive. Tonks often wondered how her cousin could have possibly produced such a placid child, but Sirius had told her once that Regulus took after his namesake in more than just looks. Tonks had never really talked to Sirius about his dead brother, but she knew that it was an incredibly sensitive topic.

"Should we head back to the concert?" Tonks asked as Sirius and Regulus stood up. Dennis looked at his watch.

"Shite, yeah, the Banshee Brothers are on in ten minutes!"

They piled out of the pub, Rosa now firmly ensconced in her father's arms. Sirius waved goodbye, heading towards the cemetery where the Aurors had roped off one of many designated Apparition zones. At such a crowded event, it was never a good idea to let people just Apparate wherever they wanted.

Tonks, Remus, Stan, Dennis, Clarence, and Terry set off towards the loud noises and flashing lights of the concert. Other scattered groups of young people were meandering along the road as well, some coming from the concert and others staggering back after a few too many drinks. Some of them waved happily, greeting the teenagers or Professor Lupin. Despite the heaviness of their earlier conversation, Tonks couldn't help but feel giddy. The cool night air felt wonderful after the crowded heat of the pub, Remus was holding her hand, and he was laughing loudly at something that Dennis had said. Oh yes, she could get used to this.

Suddenly, Remus stopped walking abruptly. His hand tightened on hers almost painfully, and she looked up at him in alarm. The others stopped a few feet ahead, looking back at him in confusion.

Remus's eyes were closed, and his body was tense. He was breathing deeply through his nose, and it only took a second for Tonks to realize that he _smelled_ something. His eyes snapped open, and he looked back in the direction they had come from.

"_Stay here_," he growled, his voice almost unrecognizable. And then he took off, sprinting down the road with inhuman speed. Tonks gaped after him, then glanced at her friends.

_Like hell we're staying here_, she thought, before they took off as one.

There was no way they could catch up with him. He was almost out of sight already, but there was only one place he could be going. The cemetery. Tonks had never thought she would be grateful for the grueling exercise routine that Mad-Eye put them through every day, but now – as she sprinted as fast as she could down the road, concentrating fiercely on not tripping – she sent the old codger a mental thank you.

She and Stan were pulling ahead of the others, and as they rounded the corner at the end of the road and left the warm light of the street lamps, she felt her heart rise to her throat. Far off on the edge of the cemetery, the light of the waning moon cast strange shadows on a terrifying scene.

Four figures surrounded Sirius and his children. They had obviously ambushed the tall Auror, disarming him and shedding the first blood. Even from this distance, Tonks could tell that Sirius was wounded, his body sagging as he struggled to keep himself between the attackers and his family. Tonks gave a strangled cry as she saw one of the dark figures pull Rosa from Sirius's arms. The little girl's screams rang out across the moonlit field. The three other men tightened around Sirius, one of them reaching for Regulus.

They were obviously not very experienced criminals, because not a single one of them noticed the enraged young werewolf bearing down on them. With a feral cry, Remus unleashed a blast of blue light on the three men around Sirius, knocking them to the ground. The man who held Rosa panicked, tossing her aside as he made a run for it. He was brought down with an even stronger blast of wandless magic, his body falling senselessly to the grass.

The other men, meanwhile, had managed to recover. They attacked Remus viciously, and the young man more than matched their ferocity. But he was outnumbered and still injured, the wandless magic was clearly sapping more energy than he could afford to use, and he had lost the element of surprise. He was holding his own, but he needed help, and Sirius was badly injured by the look of things. Tonks found herself running faster than she ever had in her life.

Remus whirled between the three men, blocking spells with hasty shield charms, sending his own spells back, and lashing out with fists and feet. It barely registered in Tonks's mind that this was the first _real_ fight she had ever witnessed. It looked much faster, and a lot more vicious than the spars and duels she had experienced at Hogwarts and at the Auror Department.

Remus had managed to stun one of his attackers. But as Tonks sprinted the last hundred meters, one of the men snuck a blasting spell through Remus's shields, knocking him backwards. He cried out as he hit the ground with a painful thud, and the two men advanced on him quickly.

And then Tonks was there, followed swiftly by Stan. Tonks brandished her wand at the man who was closest to Remus, throwing herself into the duel before she could give herself a chance to feel scared. The man stumbled backward, surprised by yet another ferocious defender. Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw that Stan had simply tackled the other man, and was now beating the asshole into a bloody pulp. Remus was gaping at them in shock, but she had no time to check if he was alright.

The man she was dueling was unnaturally pale, and she didn't think it was just the moonlight. He was a very skilled fighter, and his lips pulled back into a cruel smile when he finally got a good look at her. Long, razor sharp canines glistened, and Tonks suddenly realized that she was dueling with a vampire.

"Well, well," he purred, dodging her disarming spell. "_Fresh blood_."

He lashed out at her with a cutting spell, but she blocked it expertly. He sniffed the air.

"Hmmm. Not a virgin. Pity. Virgins always taste _so_ much better."

"Yeah?" she asked, refusing to be intimidated. "Well, if you don't like what's on the menu…"

She shot a disarming spell at him, immediately launching herself towards him as he blocked it. He obviously hadn't expected her to turn this into a physical fight – a fact that she took full advantage of. With a cry of rage, she roundhouse kicked him in the face. He dropped to the ground with a thud, and she stunned him, just for good measure.

"… then _fuck you_."

She turned around to find both Stan and Remus grinning at her stupidly. Remus was still on the ground, clutching his ribs, and Stan was standing over another unconscious vampire, his fists bruised and bloodied. Both of them had obviously borne full witness to her rage.

"What?" she asked, still shaking with adrenaline. Remus gave an almost hysterical laugh, standing up slowly.

"Remind me never to make you angry," he said, shaking his head. "You are fucking _terrifying_."

She snorted, willing her hands to stop shaking.

"Where's Sirius?"

"Here."

The weary voice came from behind her, and she turned to find her cousin hunched on the ground, holding Rosa and Regulus to him tightly. The two children were shaking silently, their eyes wide, and Tonks's heart sank. Nobody should have to experience such helpless fear, least of all _children_.

The others arrived, breathless and wide eyed as they took in the scene. Clarence – who was a fairly gifted Healer – rushed to Sirius's side, running her wand over his left leg, which was soaked in blood.

Suddenly, Terry cursed loudly. He was looking across the field towards Hogsmeade, and everyone followed his gaze to find a group of burly-looking Aurors and WCU men running towards them. They must have seen the unmistakable flashing lights of the duel.

Stan grabbed Remus's arm, unceremoniously dragging the smaller man towards the bushes at the edge of the cemetery.

"They're going to scan everyone, that's procedure in situations like this," Stan said, his voice strained and nervous. "You need to stay hidden, Professor. You hear me? Not a _sound_."

But Remus was looking back at the prone men lying unconscious on the ground.

"What – what's going to happen to them? What will they _do_ to them?"

Stan made a noise of frustration, tugging on his former professor's arm.

"You can't do anything for them, mate, I'm _sorry_. But you _can _do something for yourself! Get _down_!"

"Remus, _please_!" Tonks cried. But Remus turned to her, and she could see the struggle in his eyes. These men had committed a terrible crime, yes. But they must have had a _reason_. And now they would be at the mercy of the Department of Magical Creatures. They would receive no trial, no plea bargains, no other choice but Azkaban and death.

Stan obviously realized that Remus could not be trusted to save his own skin. With a muttered oath, he practically carried the smaller man into the bushes, pushing him down and following him into hiding.

Not a moment too soon.

* * *

Once in a while, Stan Shunpike wished he had followed his mum's advice and just gotten a job on the Knight Bus with his Uncle Ernie. If he had, then maybe now he wouldn't be huddling in the bushes outside Hogsmeade, practically pinning down his former professor who just happened to be a werewolf, in an attempt to protect said werewolf from Stan's own colleagues and superiors.

It really was a ridiculous situation. But as he felt Professor Lupin – _Remus, his name is Remus, he's only four bloody years older than I am_ – trembling against him as Marcus Belfry's unmistakably cruel voice echoed through the darkness, he realized that this was the only thing he _could_ have done. Because Stan had seen firsthand what Belfry and his cronies did to innocent lycanthropes, and there was _no way_ he was going to let them do that to Professor Lupin.

It was too dark to see anything from within the thick shrubbery. But they could hear every word of the scene transpiring not ten feet away from them.

"So, Auror Black – they disarmed you, injured you, and took your daughter away," Belfry was saying, his voice cold and unfeeling.

"Yes," Sirius ground out. This was the third time they had questioned him about the order of events.

"Then cadets Tonks, Nott, Clearwater, and Mr. Arthur here – all of whom just _happened_ to be in the area – came and… dispensed of this filth?"

He sounded incredibly skeptical.

"Yes," Sirius said resolutely.

"Tell me something, Cadet _Tonks_," Belfry sneered. "How did you know what was going on?"

"We saw the flash of the disarming spell, and then we heard Rosa screaming," Tonks said, her answer prompt and concise. _Nice job, Tonksy_.

"And how, exactly, did four barely-trained 18-year olds manage to defeat three vampires and a werewolf in combat?"

Stan felt Remus stiffen beside him. There was a werewolf out there? It must have been the man who had tried to run away, because the three men Stan had seen had definitely been vampires.

"Practice," Terry piped up. "Our DADA teacher was fantastic."

"Boss!" another voice called out from further away. "The werewolf is waking up!"

Stan listened as Belfry strode over to the werewolf. A quiet groan indicated that the man was awake and in pain.

"Look at me, wolf."

A pause.

"_Look at me, _you piece of _shit_!"

The man cried out, and Stan could imagine Belfry right now, yanking the wretched werewolf to his knees by a cruel fist in his hair. Belfry's eyes would be gleaming. He always enjoyed inflicting pain.

"Why are you here? What were you planning to do with Auror Black and his children?"

No answer. The sickening sound of metal meeting bone echoed across the field. Belfry had whipped the man in the head with his pistol.

"_ANSWER ME!_"

The man whimpered, his breath ragged and desperate. Belfry spoke again, this time his voice dangerously low.

"Answer me, and I'll _think_ about giving you a _quick_ death, instead of a long, painful one."

Remus jerked beside him, and Stan wrapped his arms firmly around the man's slight frame, holding him down. If Remus revealed himself, he would accomplish nothing more than giving Belfry _two _werewolves to kill, instead of just one.

The werewolf was sobbing openly now.

"We – we just wanted the children! We were going to ransom them back; we just needed the _money_! I – I didn't want to hurt anyone, I just… I need _Wolfsbane_ – "

"Well," Belfry said, his voice now disturbingly calm. "I have good news for you then."

There was a slight pause. Stan heard a quiet, heartbreaking whimper escape from the man he was holding down. Remus knew just as well as he did what was coming next.

"You don't need Wolfsbane anymore," Belfry said.

The gunshot split the night air with awful clarity. Remus flinched violently in Stan's arms, huddling into himself. The shot was echoed by cries of horror, torn from the throats of the four teenagers who had not been expecting it. Sobs of small children joined the chorus, and Stan realized that Rosa and Regulus were still there. Stan's jaw tightened. If he ever got the opportunity, he was going to make Marcus Belfry pay for every life he had ruined, every trauma he had inflicted…

"You fucking _bastard_!" Tonks screamed. "You just _murdered_ him in cold blood! In front of _children_!"

"Haven't we had this conversation before, _girly_?" Belfry sneered. "That was a _werewolf_. That means I had the right to do _whatever I wanted_ with him. In case you've forgotten, he just tried to kill Auror Black and kidnap those children you're so concerned about! He was no better than a rabid _dog_. And the only way to keep the disease from spreading is to _stomp it out_. I am doing what needs to be done, and I don't need some pink-haired bitch telling me what's right and wrong. _Shut your mouth_."

There was a long silence, broken only by the occasional whimpers and sobs of Rosa and Regulus.

"Cuff the vampires," Belfry finally said. "Send 'em straight to Azkaban, I don't have time to deal with 'em. I have to go see Mr. Krum and Minister Umbridge about this. The Dark Creatures are getting bolder, more violent. Something needs to be done."

Finally, after several minutes of shuffling and metallic clinking, loud cracks of Apparition filled the air.

"Get yourself to St. Mungo's, Auror Black," Belfry said coldly. "You're looking pale."

And with a final crack, he was gone as well.

* * *

**Sorry for the wait! Hope you like it :) Thanks so much for all the reviews!**


	27. Chapter 26

There was a long, traumatized silence after Belfry left. For nearly a minute, nobody moved, nobody made a sound except for the occasional heartbreaking sniffle from the two children. Stan – still huddled in the bushes with Remus – could feel the older man trembling, though he couldn't tell whether it was from fear or rage. The young werewolf was taking deep, shuddering breaths – clearly trying to reign in his emotions. Stan didn't know what to say, or what to do. How could he _possibly_ make things better?

After an agonizingly long moment, Remus shrugged out of Stan's now loose hold. With a deep breath, he stood up and clambered out of the bushes. Stan quickly followed.

The sight that greeted them was gruesome. The WCU had taken the werewolf's body away, but the ground where he had been executed was awash with blood. Stan felt bile rise to his throat as he looked at the distinct pattern of dark red sprayed across the grass, the drying liquid almost black in the moonlight.

Sirius was sprawled on the ground nearby, clutching his children to him fiercely. He had turned both of their faces into his chest, attempting to shield them from Belfry's horrific actions. His injured leg was stretched out before him, and Clarence was kneeling beside it, her hands moving deftly in healing spells. Her already pale face was deathly white, and her lips were pressed together in a thin, anxious line.

Tonks, Dennis, and Terry were still frozen, staring fixedly at the spot where the werewolf had been killed. Terry's eyes were wide, and he looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Dennis was turning green, and as Stan watched, he strode quickly to the bushes and emptied the contents of his stomach. Tonks…Tonks was _enraged_. Her fists were clenched, her eyes flashing, her lips pulled into a snarl. He would never admit it, but Stan found that he was actually rather frightened of her. Marcus Belfry had made a formidable enemy in Nymphadora Tonks.

Her fiery expression softened when she looked over to find that Remus had left the bushes, and now stood with his fists clenched, staring at the same patch of ground with haunted eyes.

"Remus…" she said softly, her voice suddenly choked with tears. He slowly turned to look at her, and for a moment, Stan could see all his emotions playing across his face. Pain, fear, rage, guilt… _despair_. And then he blinked, and suddenly he was Professor Lupin again.

"Clarence, how's Sirius?" he said brusquely, turning to look at the young woman who was still bent over Sirius's leg. Sirius himself was now fairly out of it, his head falling down to rest on top of Rosa's.

"He got hit with a pretty bad cutting spell, he's lost a lot of blood," she said dully, barely looking up. "I've managed to stop the bleeding, but he needs a professional Healer."

"Tonks," Remus said, turning back to her. "I need you to take Clarence, Sirius, and the kids back to the Burrow. Can you side-along Apparate with that many people?"

Tonks nodded, her eyes dulling slightly when she noticed that he had reverted to her last name.

"Good," Remus said, nodding shortly before turning to Terry and Dennis.

"I need you two to go back to the festival and find James and Mrs. Weasley. Tell them what happened, and help them round up all the other kids. This was probably an isolated incident, but we don't want to take any chances. Get everyone back to the Burrow. Stan, you go with them."

The three boys nodded, their faces grave.

"Where are _you_ going?" Tonks asked fiercely.

"Bulgaria," Remus said, running his hands through his hair in agitation. "Whenever something like this happens, the WCU alerts HAWE, and a village gets destroyed. That's what Belfry meant when he said that _'something needs to be done'_. They want to send a message to Dark Creatures, but they can't do it in Britain, or the general public will catch wind of it. So they get their spies to find them a nice little Dark Creature village in Eastern Europe… and they kill _everyone_."

They gaped at him, horror stricken. Remus's jaw clenched and he shifted his weight, looking like he was on the verge of Apparating.

"I need to warn as many villages as I can."

At his words, Tonks shook herself out of her horrified stupor, and she lunged forward, grabbing his arm.

"Remus, that's _ludicrous_. How are you even going to _get_ there? We don't have a Portkey!"

"I'll _Apparate_, I've done it before!"

Tonks glared at him, her nostrils flared.

"And get yourself splinched? You can't Apparate that far!"

"Yes, I can!"

He tried to pry himself free, but Tonks's grip was fierce. She threw her free hand up in the air.

"Even supposing you managed to get there in one piece, there's no _way_ you'll reach all the villages in time! What are you going to do, _run_ to all of them? Do you have a _hippogriff_ in your pocket or something?"

"No, but I know where I can _get_ one," he ground out, breathing heavily. "I don't have time to argue about this, Dora."

"Then _don't_," she said. "Come back to the Burrow with us, talk to everyone else, let us _help you_."

"By the time everyone gets back to the Burrow, it might be too _late_!" he shouted. "Krum and Barrett don't mess around, and Nyström will already know exactly where to point them, _believe_ me."

"Then let me come _with_ you, at least!" Tonks cried.

"_NO!_"

The shout was angry, desperate. Remus's voice cracked, and he was suddenly trembling, staring at Tonks with wide eyes.

"No," he whispered fiercely. "If I have anything to say about it, you are _never_ going to set foot in Eastern Europe. _Never_."

He took a deep, steadying breath.

"Besides, it wouldn't help to have anyone else with me, _especially_ Aurors. The villagers don't trust _anyone_, least of all humans, and _definitely_ not anyone who's affiliated with the Ministry. And if the members of HAWE see you fighting on our side, you'll be _lucky_ if you only lose your job."

Tonks was looking positively mutinous. Remus grimaced, grabbing her wrist and gently prying her hand off his arm.

"I know you want to help, Dora," he said softly. "And there will be _plenty_ of chances to do so in the future. But right now, I have to go. Alone."

He stepped back, his gaze flickering to everyone else.

"I'm very proud of all of you. You've handled this admirably."

His eyes returned to Tonks.

"Get everyone back to the Burrow. Keep them safe. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in fierce concentration. With a loud crack, he was gone.

* * *

"Self-sacrificing _idiot_!"

James Potter was striding back and forth across the Burrow's kitchen, grinding his fist into his palm angrily.

"Why the _hell_ didn't he come get me? It would have taken him _thirty seconds_…"

"James, there's no way you could have Apparated all the way to Eastern Europe," Lily said calmly from the corner, where she was tending to an unconscious Sirius. Marlene sat in an armchair nearby looking haunted, her arms filled with her two traumatized children. Solemn adults and teenagers filled every chair and surface in the kitchen.

"I would have figured something out!" James protested, and Lily shook her head.

"You would have gotten yourself splinched," she said, echoing the very same words that Tonks had cried to Remus. "If that boy comes back in one piece, I'll be relieved – and he's a much more powerful wizard than you are, my love, you have to admit it."

James grunted, throwing himself into a chair angrily. He looked over at his unconscious best friend, his eyes worried.

"How's he doing?"

Lily gave him a small smile.

"He'll be back to annoying us all in no time."

James nodded, looking only slightly happier. He ran a hand down his face wearily. It had been quite a job, rounding up all the young people and getting them back to the Burrow in an orderly fashion. The Aurors had shut down the festival in the wake of the incident at the cemetery, fearing that it was only the beginning of an organized Dark Creature attack. In the chaos and confusion that followed, James, Molly, Terry, Dennis, and Stan had had to send out Patronuses to locate the others and guide them to safety.

Now, at nearly one in the morning, everyone was eager to know what had happened. Tonks – with the help of her friends – managed to relate the whole story, stumbling only when she reached the part where Belfry had put a bullet through a man's brain right in front of them.

"Tell them, Tonks," James said, his eyes resigned. "They need to know. _Everyone_ needs to know. Maybe then we'll be able to _do_ something about it."

The Weasleys, Blacks, and Potters were crammed into the room, along with Neville, Hermione, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and the five teenagers who had been at the cemetery with Remus. But in the wake of Tonks's story, the packed kitchen was deathly silent, and more than one person looked quite ill.

"How… how can they _do_ a thing like that?"

It was Hermione's tentative voice that finally broke the silence. Many pairs of weary eyes turned to the bushy-haired girl, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"He should have been given a fair trial! They _all_ should have! I know that what they did was wrong, but – but…"

"It doesn't justify sending them to Azkaban without a chance to explain themselves," Harry interjected, looking mutinous. "And it _definitely_ doesn't give that arsehole the right to murder someone!"

Heads were nodding in agreement around the room. A faint 'hear hear!' echoed from Fred and George's corner.

"I 'ate to bring this up," Stan said softly, "but technically, Belfry _did _'ave the right to kill the poor bloke."

He raised his hands placatingly as people began to open their mouths angrily.

"Look, I'm sure as 'ell not agreein' with it, and I know better than _any_ of you just 'ow much of a bastard Marcus Belfry is. All I'm sayin' is that right now, as we sit 'ere, there's a _law_ in place that allows the WCU to do _whatever they want_ to pretty much any werewolf – or any Dark Creature, really – 'oo crosses their path. Not three days ago, I saw the WCU rough up a werewolf and send 'er to Azkaban 'cause she was sellin' 'andmade socks in Knockturn Alley. _Socks_. She said it was the only 'ope she 'ad o' makin' enough money to buy Wolfsbane for 'er son."

Stan took a deep breath, obviously still quite upset by the event.

"I tried askin' 'er where 'er son was – keepin' it quiet o' course, otherwise Belfry'd 'ave me out o' there faster than a Firebolt. I tried to tell 'er that I just wanted to 'elp, just wanted to get the kid some Wolfsbane if I could. But she… she _spat_ on me, told me she'd rather _die_ than tell me where 'er son was. And 'oo _knows_ where the poor kid is now… "

Stan raised unhappy eyes to look around at his raptly listening audience.

"I know that Professor Lupin told us about things like this. I know 'ee told us 'ow awful life is for Dark Creatures. But... I've only been in the WCU for a _month_, and I already know that 'ee didn't tell us everythin'. Umbridge and the rest of 'em don't want to _control_ Dark Creatures. They want to _exterminate_ 'em."

He shot an apologetic glance at Tonks, but she was not looking at him. Instead, her fists were clenched, her mouth set in a grim line, and she glared at the ground so fiercely that Stan half expected the tiles to catch fire.

"What can we _do_, though?" Bill asked bluntly. "We can't exactly go to Eastern Europe and fight against HAWE, it would start a civil war here in Britain! And then _nowhere_ would be safe!"

"And the Ministry is so corrupt, there's almost no _point_ in petitioning, or bringing this before the Wizengamot," James said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Remember when Albus ran for Minister of Magic a few years ago? There's no _way_ he didn't win the majority vote! And yet here we are, with that idiotic sycophant Fudge still running the show. I swear, Umbridge has that man under an Imperius curse."

He cursed loudly, slumping back in his chair and throwing his hands up in the air.

"How has it come to this?" he asked, turning to Arthur and Molly. "We fought – and _won _– a war against the most evil wizard the world has ever seen. And then we just _sat back_ and let racist, corrupt _bureaucrats_ take over the government and turn it into a fascist dictatorship!"

Molly and Arthur stared back at him, both looking pale and unhappy. James groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"I guess… I guess we just didn't _know_. We didn't _want _to know – we _chose_ _not_ to know that for people like Alex and Remus… the war never really ended. We were happy to live our quiet, peaceful little lives here in Britain, while they – "

Violent banging on the front door interrupted James's angry rant. Molly, looking alarmed, rushed down the hallway, peering through the peephole before opening the door for a harried-looking Mad Eye Moody.

The wild-haired Auror stumped into the room, his magical eye whirling in his head as he searched the kitchen.

"Where's Lupin?" he asked brusquely, skipping all pleasantries. He did not seem at all surprised by the presence of more than twenty people in the kitchen at nearly two in the morning.

"He went to Bulgaria," James said, rising from his chair. At his words, Moody cursed loudly and slammed his fist down on the table, making more than a few people jump in alarm.

"What's wrong, Alastor?" James asked, concerned. Moody gave a humorless laugh.

"What's _wrong_? Half the bloody Auror force was called in to go to Bulgaria tonight! That _bitch_ has finally gotten her way. She's managed to convince Fudge to give her executive power over the WCU _and_ the Aurors, and she's _unleashing_ them on Eastern Europe! Lupin and his friends aren't just going to be fighting HAWE tonight – they're facing a Ministry-trained, Ministry-equipped _army_."

"_What?_"

Cries of dismay echoed around the room.

"They can't _do_ that!" Tonks shouted. "They can't send Ministry personnel to Eastern Europe to fight a _war_!"

"Well, they just did," Moody said, looking at her grimly. "And there's bugger all I can do about it."

Banging at the door echoed through the room again, and as a shell-shocked Molly Weasley hurried into the hallway, Stan began to wonder how many more people the Burrow kitchen could possibly hold.

A moment later, Albus Dumbledore swept into the room, swiftly followed by the Longbottoms.

"You got my Patronus?" Moody asked the tall, bearded wizard gruffly. Dumbledore nodded, looking troubled.

"I already knew the situation was dire, but I had foolishly hoped it would not escalate quite so quickly," he said softly, shaking his head at Molly's silent offer of tea. "We have a decision to make."

He looked around at all of them solemnly, bright blue eyes taking in the children present.

"I assume that you all know what is happening. I won't ask those of you who are underage to leave – you are just as much a part of this as anyone else. We need to decide – _right now_ – whether those of us who are able and willing should go to Bulgaria to help fight against HAWE."

There was a heavy, terrified silence. Dumbledore continued.

"I know that this is sudden. I know that if we do this, we are essentially declaring war on our own government. But if we _don't_ do this – if we allow Dolores Umbridge to continue to help Tom Barrett and HAWE… then _thousands_ of innocent people will die. I highly doubt that this will be an isolated event. Now that Dolores has the Minister's permission, she will be sending forces to Eastern Europe as often as she can. If we don't resist her and convince others to join our cause, then she will exterminate every Dark Creature she can find."

By this point, many of the people in the room were struggling to hold back frightened tears. Charlie stood up, his fists clenched.

"Professor, sir," he began awkwardly, "Remus is a good mate of mine. It's fucking _mental_ what the Ministry is doing, and I _want_ to fight next to him, I really do. But if we go over there tonight, we'll be…" he looked around the room, silently counting, "_sixteen_ people. And that's assuming _everyone_ who's of age comes. What good is that _really_ going to do? It is hard, unforgiving, _dangerous_ territory over there, and the Dark Creatures aren't even going to know that we're on their side! I can owl my colleagues in Romania and they'll join us in a heartbeat, but even with more people… we'll be going in there blind and without a plan. It'll be complete bloody chaos."

Several people were nodding solemnly, and James grimaced, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand in agitation.

"I hate to say it, Albus," he said, "but Charlie's right. If we go, we might do more harm than good. If we can't find Remus right away, the Dark Creatures will mistake us for enemies. Hell, if the kid has already seen people in bloody Auror robes _killing_ his _friends_, even _Remus_ might not trust us anymore!"

Dumbledore – who had taken a seat at the kitchen table – was nodding slowly, steepling his fingers together as he furrowed his white brows in thought.

"It does seem as though we have our hands tied, at least as far as the fighting tonight is concerned. But the fighting will continue tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that. We _have_ to find a way to stop it."

"_Words_."

Dennis's clear, tenor voice cut through the terrified mutters that had begun to gain volume. The blond young man was standing in a corner, his hands stuffed in his pockets. But as everyone turned to look at him, his mouth began to curve up in a stunned smile.

"_Words_, people!" he cried. "Bloody hell, what kind of journalist am I, how did I not think of this before? '_The pen is mightier than the sword'_!"

"What are you on about, boy?" Moody growled impatiently. Dennis turned to James, pulling his hands out of his pockets.

"Mr. Potter, you said it yourself – _everyone_ needs to know about this! If the average person knew what HAWE was doing – what the _Ministry_ was doing – they'd be appalled! Even someone who's afraid of werewolves would have been _sick_ if they saw what Marcus Belfry did to that poor bloke at the cemetery!"

James was already shaking his head at the boy.

"Dennis, if you're thinking about getting this into the Daily Prophet, then you're delusional. The Prophet is under Fudge's thumb, which means it's under _Umbridge's_ thumb. If you tried to print anything even _vaguely_ sympathetic about Dark Creatures, you'd be _lucky_ if you only got fired and blacklisted."

But Dennis was not to be disheartened.

"Phinneus Lovegood would put it in _The Quibbler_. I could write it under an assumed name, and get it in some papers on the Continent. I could probably even get it in some papers in the States! We could print fliers and dump them over Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley – Fred, George, is there some way to put fliers in a firework, and set it off so that noone could trace it back to us?"

The red-haired twins grinned.

"Most _definitely_, my good sir," George said.

"We might have a few other brilliant ideas as well," Fred added. "Some of them to do with making dear Dolores's life more enjoyable."

"Itching powder."

"Hemorrhoid toilet paper."

"Exploding quills."

"_Boys!_" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "That's _quite _enough for now, we have serious matters to attend to."

The adults in the room were all staring at Dennis, looking fairly impressed. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"Mr. Arthur, I'd like to commend you for reminding us all that wars can be won through peaceful means. Sometimes it's hard for old veterans to remember such things."

Dennis blushed, looking pleased and embarrassed by the praise.

"I can write a whole series of articles," he said, excitement ringing in his voice. "About what happened – what's _still _happening – tonight, about the woman Stan saw the WCU drag off to Azkaban, about Kamena… Maybe – maybe I could go to Eastern Europe to take some pictures, show the world what it's really like."

"We can take those for you, son," Frank said, looking concerned. "I seriously doubt Remus would be too keen on you running around over there, and I don't think your parents would be too happy about it either."

"This is all well and good," Tonks interrupted suddenly, and her voice was strained with suppressed fear and anger, "but it doesn't help Remus _now_. It doesn't help the people of whatever village they've managed to find! People are dying _tonight_, and we're sitting around talking about articles and fliers!"

As if on cue, the front door crashed open. Obviously, whoever had arrived didn't have time for such things as knocking. The weary inhabitants of the kitchen jumped to attention, hands reaching for their wands as they turned towards the door into the hallway.

Three disheveled, desperate figures burst through the door. Remus was on the right, a deep cut on his brow oozing blood down the side of his face. A young girl was on the left, her black hair pulled up into a ponytail, and her mouth set in a determined line as she struggled to help Remus carry the large man slumped between them.

Alex was badly hurt. His head lolled against Remus's shoulder as his two friends practically dragged him into the kitchen, leaving a sickening trail of blood behind them. Remus looked up, and his eyes widened as he took in the crowd. But when he saw Lily, he cried out.

"Lily! Please, I – I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do… Tervel's Healer is dead, everyone else is scattered, and – and Alex…"

"Clear the table!" Lily cried, waving off Remus's stammered apologies. The people who had been seated around the kitchen table stood quickly, and Lily cleared any remaining mugs and plates with a sweep of her wand.

"What happened to him?" Lily asked brusquely, gesturing for Remus and the girl to lay Alex on the table. James and Charlie stepped forward to help lift the large man, but Remus shook his head at them.

"No! He's bleeding, don't touch him. Lily, you have gloves, right?"

The red-haired woman nodded as Remus – with a strength that looked completely unnatural considering his thin frame – hooked his arms under Alex's knees, and hoisted the huge man onto the table. The girl quickly pushed Remus aside, reaching to unbutton Alex's shirt with trembling hands.

"He got shot twice, then they hit him with some sort of stunner. He can usually run right through a _stupefy_, but this one's done a number on him," she said, her strained voice colored with a slight Greek accent. As she bent over Alex, it became clear from their strikingly similar profiles that they were related. She couldn't be any older than sixteen or seventeen, but her face was full of grim determination as she pulled back her brother's shirt, revealing a broad chest covered in old scar tissue, and two ugly-looking bullet wounds on the left side of his abdomen.

As Lily began to work, Remus pushed his way through the crowded kitchen, racing up the stairs to Ron's room. Several moments later he reappeared, backpack in hand. Alex's sister turned to look at him, her blue eyes smoldering with anger and suppressed fear.

"We have to go back, we have to find Eleni. She was _right behind me_, where the fuck did she _go_?"

Remus shook his head, throwing his pack to the floor and crouching down to rummage through it. He was absolutely filthy, his borrowed clothing caked with soot and dirt. The Weird Sisters logo on his shirt was practically unrecognizable under mottled bloodstains, and a long tear in the fabric across his back revealed a line of angry red standing out surreally against pale skin – the telltale sign of a silver bullet coming too close for comfort.

"I don't know, she must have gone back to find your parents," he said, his voice low and dangerously steady. "Stupid. _Stupid_. I'll find her, Lara, I promise. I'll send her here, and then I want you all to go north. Go to Scotland, go to Ireland – go fucking _anywhere_ you can, just _stay away_ from Eastern Europe."

While he spoke, he pulled his wand out of the pack and stuck it through the back of his belt. Obviously too agitated to care about the onlookers, he whipped off the tattered t-shirt and pulled a dark green, long-sleeved shirt over his head. Several gasps echoed around the room as people caught a glimpse of the scar tissue and malnourishment that were grim reminders of his condition and his past. But he was already moving, striding over to Lara and grabbing her by the shoulders.

"You hear me?" he said, shaking her slightly. "_Don't go back there_. They've already attacked three villages, Barrett's not fucking around anymore. This is only the beginning, believe me."

"But my _parents_ –"

"_I will find them_, Lara. One way or the other, I will find them. They would want you three to be safe, so _stay away_."

He turned away abruptly, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back to face her.

"I swear to Merlin, Remus Lupin, if you get yourself killed, I will hunt you down and kill you _again_."

Her eyes were wide and shining as she looked up at him, the grim line of her mouth starting to waver with fear. She continued, her words choking in her throat.

"And then I'll forcefeed you blueberries. A fate _worse_ than death for you, so _you better fucking come back_."

With a huff of almost hysterical laughter, Remus pulled her roughly into his arms, holding her tightly against him. She clutched at his shirt desperately, her face buried in his chest, her shoulders shaking.

"I'm coming back, you goon," he whispered into her hair. "Lucky shirt, remember? Those bastards won't even see me."

She let out a muffled laugh that sounded more like a sob. Taking advantage of the silence, Moody took a small step forward.

"Remus, lad," he began, and the young man turned to look at him, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. And suddenly, even the battle-hardened Mad-Eye Moody was at a loss for words. How could he give these terrified, grief-stricken young people even more bad news?

"What is it, Moody?" Remus asked warily, detaching himself from Lara. He pulled the girl behind him, adopting a defensive posture that Moody was sure was entirely instinctive.

"Lad, I…" he began, then cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had taken up residence. "I- I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…"

"Just spit it out, Alastor!" Remus said impatiently. "I don't have much time, I have to figure out how to defend ourselves against whatever Barrett's got up his sleeve!"

"That's just it, Remus," Moody said wearily. "Umbridge finally got her way with Fudge. She's been given complete control over the WCU and the Aurors, and she's sent them to Barrett. That army you're facing isn't just HAWE anymore – the bloody Ministry of Magic has declared war on you."

There was a long, unpleasant silence. Both Remus and Lara gaped at Moody, their faces ashen. They looked like they were going to be sick. After a long moment, Lara began to take fast, shallow breaths, nearly hyperventilating.

"They – they can't _do_ that!" she finally whispered fiercely, echoing Tonks's earlier words. "We didn't – we didn't do _anything_ to them, we just want to be _left alone._ Why can't they just _LEAVE US ALONE!_"

She was practically in hysterics by this point, and Remus turned to her, taking her by the shoulders again.

"Hey, hey, _listen to me_," he said, his normally confident voice sounding incredibly young, and incredibly frightened. "Listen to me, Lara honey. Deep breaths, come on."

He tried to give her a reassuring smile, and failed miserably.

"It's going to be okay, Lara," he said, but his voice trembled. "It'll be okay."

"How is it going to be _okay,_ Remus?" she cried. "Did you _see_ them? They're raining down silver with bloody _grenades_ and _machine guns_!"

Remus's mouth pulled into a grimace and he turned away from her, his filthy hands gripping his hair desperately. But Lara wasn't finished.

"Barrett is probably_ torturing_ somebody right now, and getting the location of Latvos, or Brasov! We can't even send a damn _owl_ to the other villages to warn them, and they're going to fall like fucking _dominos_! How the hell are we going to defend ourselves from this? _How?_"

"God_dammit_, _I DON'T KNOW_!" Remus cried, kicking a chair leg so viciously that the offending item of furniture skittered across the floor and tipped over with a crash. "I don't fucking _know_, Lara, I'm not a military commander! But I'm _not _just going to cower here while they _murder_ everyone!"

Dumbledore suddenly stepped forward, reaching out to take the anguished young man by the shoulder. But Remus shrank away from him, pulling Lara behind him again and backing them both up towards the table, where Lily was still working to heal Alex. Remus's eyes were burning with fury, and it was clear that James had been right – he didn't trust them anymore.

"Remus, please, we want to _help_ you –" Dumbledore began, his hand still outstretched.

"That's what you said six years ago!" Remus cried, and his right hand twitched towards his wand. "But ever since then, we've barely been _one step ahead_ of Barrett. Now that he has the _Ministry_ on his side, we're being hunted down and slaughtered like _animals_! How do I know you're not a part of it? How can I trust _any_ of you?"

"We're not a _part of this_, this is _Umbridge_ –"

"We've kept your secret, Remus!" James cried. "We've kept you safe here in Britain!"

Remus turned to him, mouth pulled into a snarl.

"I've been your _pet werewolf_. You _pity_ me, you think I'm _interesting_ – the 'civilized' werewolf who can walk and talk like a normal man. But you don't really _care_. You _pretended _to care when Kamena was destroyed, everyone moaned self-righteously about it for a few days – and then it was _forgotten_! As though we didn't _matter_, as though we never even _existed_!"

He paused for breath, his chest heaving. Lara – pressed against his back in fear – looked up at him with eyes that shone with tears. She wrapped an arm around his middle bracingly, her hand gripping the front of his shirt in silent support. James was staring at Remus, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open in mute, horrified realization. After a long moment, Remus took a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed his brow wearily, grimacing as his fingers brushed against the still bleeding gash. When he spoke, his voice was slightly calmer.

"I know it's not your fault, James. I know this isn't your war. And Merlin, if _I _had a peaceful life and a loving family, I wouldn't be looking around for someone else's battle to fight. You have _a lot to lose_, all of you do. I know you mean well, but I _can't trust you_. You have to do whatever is necessary to protect your loved ones, and right now, we are a danger to you all."

Without waiting for a response, he reached down and slung his pack over his shoulder, turning to Lara and gripping her by the shoulders again.

"Stay here, make sure Alex doesn't do anything stupid when he wakes up. I'm going to find Eleni and your parents, and send them here. With any luck, it won't be too long. Then I want you all to get as far away as you possibly can, you hear me?"

She nodded, her mouth once again set in a determined line.

"What are you going to do after you find them?"

"I'll go to Brasov, and warn the vampire colony. That's the largest village, and if Barrett can get their location, he'll go there next. I might be able to convince some of them to come with me to warn the others. Once all the villages are up and moving, I'll gather everybody I can to try and raid one of their camps. If we capture some of their weapons, we might have a fighting chance of keeping them off our backs long enough to get everyone out."

"Where are they going to go, Remus?" Lara asked softly. "Alex and Eleni and I can lie low, but what about the people who are branded? They won't last two months in South America, Africa is even worse, _forget_ about the States! Where are they going to go, the _moon_? And how are they going to _get _there? Not everyone can Apparate thousands of miles like you can!"

"We'll make Portkeys, we'll side-along Apparate – we'll do whatever it takes."

"Bring them to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore's soft, steady voice brought Remus's head whipping around.

"Are you _insane_?" he hissed. "Short of the Ministry itself, that's the _last_ place they'll be safe!"

"Why?" Dumbledore asked simply. "They will actually be safer there than they would be anywhere else. There are entire hidden wings of the castle, rooms that noone has used for hundreds of years. And while I am Headmaster, the Ministry holds no authority there. We will care for them, we will _protect _them until Mr. Arthur's journalistic efforts, and our combined forces of political and social influence can _fix this_."

Remus's eyes darted to Dennis, then back to Dumbledore, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"What in _bloody hell_ are you on about?" he asked. "Didn't you hear what I _just said_?"

He turned to his former student. "Dennis, the woman who wrote the article on Kamena six years ago _mysteriously disappeared_. If you start writing sympathetic things about Dark Creatures, Barrett _will_ find you, and he _will_ kill you."

Dennis raised his chin defiantly.

"Let him try. I bet you anything that I had a better Defense teacher than _he _did."

Remus shook his head in frustration, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. He looked like he was on the verge of angry tears. He looked back up at Dumbledore, his features drawn with desperate worry.

"Albus, you _cannot_ turn Hogwarts into a safe haven for Dark Creatures. You'll be putting those children right in the middle of a _war_. Do you have _any_ idea how much danger they will be in? If anyone finds out, if anyone lets something slip… HAWE is not the Ministry. They don't give two shits about _authority_. They will attack Hogwarts, and kill anyone who gets in their way."

"Not while I am Headmaster," Dumbledore said, and his voice suddenly rumbled with a furious, frightening power. His normally twinkling blue eyes were as hard as stone, and he stared Remus down, willing the young man to accept his help. Remus deflated slightly, his gaze shifting to the ground and his fists clenching.

"The students at Hogwarts will be perfectly safe," Dumbledore continued, his voice softer but his words not open for debate. "They will have me, they will have the staff, they will have _you_. And I know for a fact that at this point, if those children discover what is happening, they will do _everything they can_ to protect you and your people."

The bearded wizard paused, looking kindly at the distressed young man, who was still staring fixedly at the floor.

"I'm sure," Dumbledore continued, "that of all the people in this room, _you_ know the most about how strong a child can be, if others are depending on him."

Slowly, the young man raised his head, meeting Dumbledore's gaze with impossibly weary eyes. For a long moment, the two men simply stared at each other. And then Dumbledore stepped forward cautiously. Remus almost stepped backward in parallel, but seemed to will himself to stay put. Slowly, Dumbledore rested his hand on the young man's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Let us help you, Remus. I know we have spent the past decade trying to pretend like this isn't happening. We have done _nothing_, while our government has waged war on you with increasing brutality. But _no more_. No more standing by. Ignorant complacency is what allowed Voldemort to rise to power, and we obviously didn't learn from our mistake. This action by the Ministry is – in reality – a threat to us _all_. And we _all_ must fight to preserve our safety, and our freedom. You are _not alone_."

There was a long, deafening silence. Remus was staring at Dumbledore in shock, his chest heaving. Lara, behind him, was gaping at the strange old wizard in utter confusion, obviously flabbergasted that someone was offering to help them. Remus's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he blinked rapidly, his eyes suddenly watery.

An agonized cry split the silence. Alex was awake. He tried to jerk upright, but Lily held him down with a gloved hand. Lara ran to her brother, leaning over him and speaking rapidly in Greek. Alex groaned in response, looking around the room with confused eyes. His gaze fell on Remus, who had rushed to his side as well.

"_Kólos_," he rasped. "Wh- where are we? Where's mum and dad? Eleni?"

Remus's mouth set in a grim line, and he reached out a dirty, bloodstained hand, bracing the back of his friend's neck as he met Alex's eyes intently.

"I'm going to find them, Alex," he said fiercely. "I'm going to _find _them. And then you're all going to be _safe_."

Alex's eyes flickered with confusion, but he had lost too much blood to stay awake for long. His eyes slipped shut, and he went limp again. Lara turned to look up at Remus.

"Go. _Go_, Remus. I'll deal with things here. I don't know who the hell these people are, but we _have_ to trust them. We don't have any other choice."

Remus nodded shortly and turned back to Dumbledore, pulling his backpack over both shoulders.

"Alright, Albus. We'll do it. We'll come to Hogwarts."

A collective sigh of relief echoed around the room. There was hope, there was a sanctuary, there was at least _some sort _of _plan_.

"Are you _sure _about this?" Remus asked, his voice cracking in exhaustion. Dumbledore nodded firmly.

"Yes. Make the Forbidden Forest your destination, I will ask the centaurs to guide groups to the castle. The staff and I will begin preparations tonight."

Remus nodded again, and his eyes flashed with determination and a spark of hope that hadn't been there minutes before. He glanced briefly around at the crowded room before making his way to the door.

"You'd bloody well better come back, Remus Lupin."

Tonks's strained voice rang out across the kitchen, and he looked up at her. She was breathing quickly, struggling to maintain her composure.

"Lara's not the only one who will hunt you down and kill you again if you do something stupid."

To her surprise, Remus cracked a small, but genuine smile. She was standing to the right of the doorway, and he stopped in front of her.

"Always good to know that the women in my life are so violent," he said quietly. She glared up at him, and he smirked, leaned down, and kissed her. But before her emotionally exhausted brain could catch up enough to grab him and keep him close, keep him _safe_… he was gone.

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Man, that was long and complicated, but it needed to be done. Sorry about the wait, I've been camping, and then I rewrote this chapter about eight times. Still don't know if I got it exactly right, let me know what you think! Thanks for the reviews :)**


	28. Chapter 27

_History would later refer to the events of August 1994 as the Bulgarian Wars. Across Eastern Europe, brutal violence erupted on a scale that had not been seen anywhere since the height of Voldemort's power. Ministry personnel, supplies, and weapons poured into the wartorn region, bolstering HAWE's experienced forces. A combination of well-paid spies, and information gained through torture led to the discovery of hundreds of Dark Creature communities from Estonia to Russia and down through Turkey. Later on, it would take years of painstaking research to fully comprehend the amount of destruction and chaos wreaked in those few horrifying and confusing weeks._

_ To the surprise of the world, it did not take long for the Dark Creatures to mount a defense. The groundwork laid by the first DCEF meeting only days before the first attacks allowed 22-year old Remus Lupin to quickly organize several determined task forces. Messengers on thestrals scoured the landscape, warning villages of the impending threat. Meanwhile, a combat force led by Lupin raided HAWE encampments, stealing supplies and weapons. Once fully armed, this small band of Dark Creatures defended their own with a tenacity and cunning that shocked the insurgent Ministry personnel. Within two weeks, Lupin's forces had tripled in size. Once they understood the situation, werewolves, vampires, centaurs, goblins, veelas, and banshees flocked to join the young man and his compatriots. People who had hated each other only a month before now fought side by side to defend their families._

_ For HAWE, things became surprisingly difficult. Assuming that the Dark Creatures were as disorganized and fragmented as ever, Barrett and his allies had made no effort to coordinate attacks or organize a cohesive force. While the veteran HAWE members used the Ministry weapons to horrifying effect, the actual Ministry personnel were almost worse than useless. WCU agents – though brutal and more than willing – were unaccustomed to the terrain and ineffectively led. Almost half of the Ministry Auror forces blatantly refused to take part in the affair, and of the 120 Aurors who actually went, only a dozen saw real combat amidst all the confusion._

_The day after the attempted kidnapping of Rosa and Regulus Black, the Daily Prophet published a vitriolic diatribe against werewolves and vampires. That same day, several fireworks were set off over wizarding villages, littering the ground with flyers that laid out the truth in bold letters: the kidnapping had been an act of desperation, carried out by people with no other options. Once caught, the culprits had received no trial, and a Ministry employee had murdered one of them in cold blood. Now, the government of wizarding Britain was using tax money to fund a war of extermination against innocent refugees who were already clinging to life by their fingernails._

_ The news divided Britain. Letters poured into the Ministry – some people demanding to know why their tax money was being put to such horrible use, and some commending the Department of Magical Creatures for its initiative. Ministry employees began to wake from their collective stupor, and heated arguments could be heard echoing through the halls as they began to realize what they had been turning a blind eye to all this time. Some shopkeepers in Diagon Alley put banners in their windows proclaiming 'End the Bulgarian Wars', while others posted signs calling for support of Umbridge's efforts. Tensions rose as almost weekly 'flier-works' littered the countryside with a barrage of information about Dark Creatures, and the suffering they had seen – and were still seeing – at the hands of the Ministry and HAWE. The age of ignorant complacency was over._

_At the heart of all this were young sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren – students of Remus Lupin. They knew that their professor would be in the thick of the fighting, and they were determined to do everything they could to help him. They championed the cause of fair treatment for Dark Creatures to anyone within earshot. Like their professor, they were fighting an uphill battle. Like their professor, they were not alone._

_ The biggest blow to HAWE's cause was something that did not come to light until years later. The news of what was happening traveled across the wizarding world, and before too long, Albus Dumbledore was not the only person offering sanctuary. Madam Maxime and her students at Beauxbatons took in almost a thousand veelas and vampires. Several schools in North and South America opened their doors to refugees, and many families across the globe took Dark Creatures into their own homes, hiding them from the WCU and the Ministry. Dark Creatures fleeing Eastern Europe were brought first to Hogwarts and then transferred to countless places around the world. _

_Through it all, Lupin and his companions fought a ceaseless battle to save as many people as they could. Unaware of all the forces that were rallying to help them, DCEF scrambled to create enough Portkeys to send refugees to Hogwarts in droves. HAWE raced to catch up, but were unable to trace the fleeing Dark Creatures. Finally, on August 30, 1994, the last village was evacuated, and Lupin's army retreated. Casualties – mostly Dark Creatures – numbered in the thousands, but Umbridge, Krum, and Barrett knew they had not come anywhere close to accomplishing their goal. The Dark Creatures had disappeared, along with their elusive leader – and the Ministry had no idea where they had gone. For Barrett and his allies, it was an infuriating failure – one that they were determined would only be temporary._

* * *

August 1994 was the longest month of Nymphadora Tonks's life. Sleep was almost a forgotten concept – not only for her, but for almost everyone she knew. Hogwarts – normally quiet and empty during the summer months – was a hive of activity. Under the cover of heavy wards and concealment charms, hundreds of Dark Creatures a day arrived in the Forbidden Forest, many of them requiring medical attention. A huge team of humans worked around the clock to heal and feed them, take down their names, and figure out where to send them. The Hogwarts staff and the house elves were working constantly, side by side with a small army of volunteers. Everyone who had been present at the Burrow on the night of July 31 spent as much time as they possibly could at Hogwarts, clearing the massive network of unused dungeons beneath the castle for use as living areas. As August progressed, other trusted individuals were called in to help, many of them students. Even Rosa and Regulus – several days after their horrifying experience in Hogsmeade – demanded to be a part of it, and so they were put to work in the Hospital Wing, folding linen under the watchful eyes of Marlene, Lily, and Madam Pomfrey.

As more and more refugees arrived, the castle dungeons slowly evolved into what could only be described as an underground city. Corridors turned into bustling streets, dormitories were filled faster than they could be made, and the largest dungeon – a dark, drafty old place that smelled like dead rats when Tonks and Stan first found it – was converted into a dining hall and meeting space. Able-bodied refugees began to work with the volunteers to help clean the dungeons and make them more habitable.

Keeping up appearances at the Auror Department was a trying task for Tonks and the others, especially after several nights without sleep. But no matter how tired she got, Tonks couldn't close her eyes without envisioning some awful situation Remus might be in at that very moment. Thankfully, she received almost daily updates on his whereabouts from the people he helped to evacuate. Most of them either knew Remus in person, or knew of him through word of mouth. It was clear that for many – if not all – of them, complete faith in Remus was the only reason they remained calm and cooperative. One mother, when her small son began to cry as they descended into the strange and unfamiliar dungeons, turned to him and asked, "Luca, you remember what Ray said, don't you?"

At the boy's tearful nod, the exhausted young woman managed a wan smile.

"Ray said we'd be safe here. He said that these people would take care of us. I believe him, don't you?"

Luca hiccupped miserably, and stared at his mother with watery brown eyes before slowly nodding again. He wrapped his too-thin arms around her neck, and she carried his small, silent form down the stairs to the underground city. Tonks – who had overheard the entire exchange – found herself struggling to see through her tears. Remus meant _so much_ to these people. He meant so much to _her_.

_Come back. Don't let them take you from us._

Communication with Remus and his band of fighters was practically nonexistent. They were constantly on the move, barely able to make enough Portkeys to evacuate one village before racing to the next. Not even so much as a note made it to Hogwarts until Alex – fully healed and unstoppable – left to find Remus and the others, and convinced one of the evacuees to carry a tattered scrap of parchment back to his parents.

Myko, Gwynnedd, and Eleni Diamantis had arrived at the Burrow, shaken and bloody, on the night of July 31. Lara – who openly gaped at Tonks after seeing Remus kiss her – quickly informed her family that Remus had a girlfriend. Tonks had blushed furiously and tried to explain that their relationship was very new and undefined, but it didn't matter. She was immediately adopted.

"So _you're_ the pink-haired lass he's been prattling on about," Gwynnedd – who reminded Tonks distinctly of a gray-haired Molly Weasley – said softly. Her Welsh accent lilted with amusement as she shook Tonks's hand, and the young woman wondered – for the first time but definitely not the last – how these people could still find humour in the world after everything they had experienced.

After some initial awkwardness, Tonks became quite close with the Diamantis family. So it wasn't surprising when Gwynnedd beckoned her over to see the note Alex had sent.

"Remus drew something for you, dear," the silver-haired woman said, holding up the flimsy piece of parchment. Eagerly, Tonks grasped it.

Her brow immediately furrowed. He really had… _drawn_ something. Scrawled at the bottom, under a few terse lines written in Alex's neat script, were two hearts. The lines of ink were shaky and blotted, as though the artist was unused to a quill.

She looked up at Gwynnedd. The helpless confusion must have shown on her face, because the older woman suddenly looked concerned.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Tonks asked, bewildered. It was a relief to get any sign of life at all, but why hearts? Why a drawing that looked like it came from a two-year old?

Gwynnedd looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Tonks, dear… Remus can't read."

Tonks stared at her blankly. Gwynnedd continued, her voice uncertain.

"He's… he's never been able to. His father tried to teach him for years but… well, you know about his injury."

Tonks could feel her mouth going dry from gaping. She finally managed to sputter out, "But – but he's a _brilliant_ teacher! He – he knows so _much_. He can't be…"

For some inexplicable reason, she found herself unable to say the word _illiterate._ Gwynedd smiled at her, eyes shining with both pride and grief.

"He _is_ quite well-spoken, isn't he?" she said softly. "Romulus used to read to him all the time. They must have gone through every book they could get their hands on. But Remus never let anyone else read to him, after… "

Gwynnedd's lilting voice faltered, and she looked down, wringing her hands together. She turned abruptly away from Tonks, and began straightening a pile of linens that didn't need straightening. Dashing a hand across her eyes, the older woman muttered something about helping in the Hospital Wing, and bustled off. Tonks stared after her, her fists clenching on the telltale parchment. She looked down, and reread Alex's note.

_Dear Mum,_

_Found the others. Not much time to write, but I am in good health. We're going to give these bastards a fight. All my love to you, Dad, Lara, and Eleni. Remus sends his love as well. The hearts at the bottom are for Tonks, could you make sure she sees them?_

_Much love,_

_Alex_

Tonks shut her eyes tightly, and tried to control her breathing. How could she have been so blind? In all of her classes with Remus, not _once_ had she seen him write on the blackboard, or even crack open a book. He had been _so careful_ to hide his handicap. And yet now he laid it out for her to see, clear as day. Because he wanted her to know how he felt.

_In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe, Tonksy. There's work to be done. You can fall apart when he's back, safe and sound._

Nymphadora Tonks opened her eyes. Though perhaps they shone more brightly than usual, they were hard with determination. She couldn't send Remus a message of her own, but she could do everything in her power to help the people he was risking his life to save. Taking another deep breath, she carefully folded the tattered parchment and put it in her pocket. Then she briskly followed Gwynnedd to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Life at Hogwarts became increasingly complicated as the month wore on. An endless torrent of refugees streamed into the Forbidden Forest, and tensions ran higher and higher as the underground city filled up. Sympathetic schools and families around the world had already taken in more people than they could really afford, and the many occupants of Hogwarts began to wonder what would happen if the evacuation continued for much longer. No one was entirely certain how many Dark Creature villages there were in Eastern Europe, or how many had been destroyed. Remus was the only person who might have a clue as to how many people were still to come, but he was incommunicado.

Up until the last week of August, the refugees were fairly self-contained, and self-policing. Grudges and old hatreds between Dark Creatures had been suppressed in the face of the Ministry's united effort to exterminate them all. But as the dungeons grew more and more crowded, and the need for an organized government became clear, long-held grievances began to rear their heads once again. Arguments turned heated – sometimes violent – in the darkened corridors, and even Tonks began to feel slightly unsafe as she navigated the labyrinths. The Dark Creatures had been civil, if wary, of the humans who were helping them. But as more and more refugees arrived, bringing with them horrifying accounts of Ministry officials armed to the teeth with silver, attitudes towards the non-refugees inevitably turned frosty. Some people were downright hostile, and while Tonks couldn't exactly blame them, she realized that if Remus didn't return soon to help mediate, she and her companions were going to have a serious problem on their hands.

At midday on August 30, things finally came to a head. By now, fully a third of the Hogwarts student body was already at the school, helping. But the staff knew that when the rest of the students – some of whom were not trustworthy – arrived, efforts to remain secretive would need to be tripled. In order to get everyone on the same page, Professor McGonagall had called all the occupants of Hogwarts into the large dungeon that had come to be known as the Meeting Hall.

From the moment Tonks entered the room, she could tell that this meeting would not go well. This was the first full gathering in the underground city, and the number of people who filled the hall was staggering. Chairs and tables had been piled against the walls to make room for throngs of men, women, and children. As Tonks carefully picked her way through the crowd, heading towards her friends on the opposite end of the hall, she noticed with chagrin that the werewolves, vampires, banshees, goblins, and veelas in attendance had already started to self-segregate. The lines between groups were almost linear, and those on the borders eyed each other warily. The tension in the room was palpable, but Tonks had no clue how to diffuse it. What could she – a pink-haired, teenage human – possibly say that these people would listen to?

Professor McGonagall stood on a makeshift, raised dais at the front of the hall. Dumbledore was at the Ministry, where he had spent almost the entire month working to try and sway the political machines that kept the Dark Creatures in hiding. McGonagall held her head high, but Tonks could tell that she was slightly unnerved by the sea of hostile faces before her.

The meeting started off innocuously enough. McGonagall ran through all the changes that needed to be made in order to maintain secrecy. But when she mentioned that the staff would be taking down everyone's names and information, the atmosphere of the room turned glacial.

The moment that refugees appeared in the Forbidden Forest was usually so chaotic and bloody that it was impossible to get accurate records of the people who arrived every day. Now, the Hogwarts staff needed to know exactly how many mouths they had to feed.

"Volunteers will be coming around to all the dormitories tonight," Professor McGonagall said, her Scottish brogue echoing through the large hall. "Please give them your name, age, and state of health."

"What d'you need that fer?" a rough voice called out. Startled, McGonagall cast her eyes about until she found the owner of the voice – a hulking, bearded man near the front of the crowd. Angry black symbols on the side of his neck labeled him as a werewolf.

"The kitchen and Healing staff have to know what supplies they need," the Transfiguration professor replied, staring severely at the man who looked completely unrepentant for his interruption.

"Is that so?" he retorted, looking militant. His hair and beard were tinged with red, and his Irish accent was thick and angry. "Ya do realize, dontch'ya, that takin' records was the first thing the Nazis did durin' the Holocaust?"

McGonagall gaped at him soundlessly. A tide of whispers rose in the crowd. While Muggle history was not well studied in the wizarding world, everyone had heard of the Holocaust.

Finding her voice after a few stunned moments, McGonagall cleared her throat.

"I don't see how that's relevant here, sir," she said briskly. "We are trying to help you."

"_Help_ us? Lady, we're at yer frickin' _mercy_!"

A rumble in the crowd made it clear that what the Irishman was saying was only the first voicing of a popular opinion.

"One word from you, and we're all _dead_," he continued, his voice shaking with emotion. "We're in a bloody _dungeon_! If the Ministry finds us here, we don't stand a _chance_."

The rumble was growing louder. McGonagall raised her hands for silence, but her gesture went unheeded.

"That is why we must work _together_ now, to stay concealed!" she said loudly. "You have to _trust_ us! Remus would not have sent you all here if he did not think it was safe."

"Lupin is a naïve _kid_, he looks at all of you through fuckin' rose-tinted glasses," the Irish werewolf fumed. "_He _might trust you, but I've been around long enough to know that the moment things start going south, you'll sell us out faster than we can blink. And if you have a _record_ of us, the Ministry can count all the _bodies_ at the end, make sure they got _all_ of us!"

The room erupted. Angry shouts sounded from around the hall, and Tonks and the Hogwarts students found themselves being pushed into the far corner as people jostled each other and the crowd began to surge forward. And suddenly, Tonks was very, very afraid. This was a crowd of grief-stricken, incredibly angry people. People who had been oppressed and persecuted, people who felt helpless and cornered. If mob rule prevailed, this could turn very ugly indeed. And the Hogwarts staff and students were on the opposite end of the hall from the door. They were trapped.

Tonks pushed some of the smaller children behind her and fumbled for her wand with sweat-slicked hands. She did _not_ want to fight these people. But she didn't want to die, either. Her breath came in short gasps as some of the closest werewolves turned angry eyes on her small band of humans.

Suddenly, the Diamantis family was there. Gwynnedd spared a moment to squeeze Tonks's hand reassuringly before she turned around, forming a united front with her husband and two daughters. Myko called out in a booming voice, "Are you all _mad_? These people have sheltered us, fed us, _healed_ us! And now you turn against them? You forget Remus Lupin, and follow the words of an Irishman?"

"How can we trust them?" a young woman called out. "What if they only brought us here so that the Ministry could kill us all in one blow?!"

"That doesn't make any _sense_, Phoebe, _listen to yourself_!" Lara cried out, but by now her voice was practically indistinguishable above the noise. The meeting was devolving into a riot.

"_Fuck_, Tonks, what do we do?"

Harry stood beside her, his most recent growth spurt making her crane her neck to look up at his frightened face. She grasped his hand as reassuringly as she could, but no words escaped her constricted throat. The shouts were getting louder…

"_QUIET! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, BE QUIET!_"

A ragged scream pierced the noise, a tenor voice that cracked with exhaustion and emotion. Tonks looked up, and cried out with stunned relief.

Remus Lupin perched precariously on a stack of tables at the back of the hall, clinging to one of the torch holders for balance as he looked out across the crowd. He was emaciated, filthy, his hair matted and sticking in every direction. A mangy beard covered his face, and his feet were bare and bloody. Tonks had never seen anyone so beautiful in her life.

One by one, the crowd realized who had returned. Gradually, the hall fell silent as everyone turned to stare at the young man, and crane their necks to catch glimpses of the other members of DCEF who crowded in the doorway.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here?" Remus hissed, and his quiet words echoed throughout the hall. "What the fuck are you all _thinking_?"

The silence was deafening. Remus took a long, rattling breath and continued, his voice shaking.

"Haven't you seen _enough_ anger? Enough _violence_? How can you stand there and spit in the faces of people who have risked _everything_ to protect us?"

"_You_ may trust them, lad, but that doesn't make them _trustworthy_," the Irishman called out, stepping up onto the raised dais beside Professor McGonagall, who stared at him uncertainly. At the sight of the red-haired werewolf across the hall, Remus rubbed his forehead wearily.

"They've kept _my_ secret for years, Patrick. They have nothing to gain by helping us, and yet they're doing it anyway. I know it's hard to believe, but they're _on our side_."

"They're on _yer_ side, some of 'em, maybe," Patrick said angrily. "But do they really know what they've signed up fer? Full moon is three days away, mate. If a _single one of 'em_ changes their mind, we're all dead. It's one thing for you to risk _yer_ life by trustin' 'em. But I've got my family to think about, and I don't like being stuck down here in a dungeon at their mercy!"

The crowd rumbled again, and for a moment Tonks panicked. What if even Remus couldn't calm them? But the young man stared Patrick down with glittering amber eyes, his face stony and resolute.

"Nobody is forcing you to stay here," he said icily, and the room went silent again. "If you want to leave, say the word and we'll wipe your memory and send you on your way. But all of you should know that Barrett, Krum, and Umbridge are scouring the globe, looking for us right now. Those of you who are branded don't stand a fucking chance. And things aren't much better for the rest of us. The whole world is on the lookout for Dark Creatures, and the _only_ people who truly have our best interests at heart are _right here in this room_."

He paused, looking fiercely around the hall. His eyes flickered to the back corner, and Tonks felt a rush of heat as their eyes met. She wanted to be in his arms, _now_. She watched as his determined expression faltered, obviously distracted by the sight of her.

"I… I – " he stammered, train of thought broken. He wiped a hand down his face and sagged slightly against the wall, and all of a sudden, it was painfully clear how exhausted he was.

The small sign of weakness was all it took to end the potential riot once and for all. Even if they had nothing else in common, every single person in the room cared immensely for the young man who had given so much to save them. Patrick – looking just the tiniest bit chagrined – finally said, "Look, kid, we'll give it a try. We'll do whatever we have to do. But I'll be watchin'. And I won't be the only one. I don't trust as easily as you do."

He stepped down into the crowd, and Tonks watched as he beelined for a red-haired young woman holding a small child.

"Is the evacuation over, lad?" Myko called out from in front of Tonks. Remus looked up, and hesitated.

"We…" he began softly, his voice faltering. "We got everyone out that we could."

Looking suddenly self-conscious under everyone's gaze, he shuffled his feet.

"It's… it's good to see that you all are well. I… I'm sorry that…"

He choked, unable to finish. Shaking his head in frustration, he abruptly began to clamber off his perch. As chatter again filled the hall and the crowd began to disperse, Tonks, the Diamantis family, and the students and staff of Hogwarts pushed their way through the crowd that had come so close to attacking them. Tonks's heart was almost beating out of her chest. Where was Remus?

There. Pushing his way towards her through dozens of people who wanted to shake his hand, or hug him. He smiled weakly at them all, shaking hands quickly as he tried to move forward. But then he caught sight of her and gave a shout.

"Dora!"

She couldn't make a sound through her tears. A path cleared between them as people realized who Remus truly wanted to see. And then she was in his arms at last, and his face was buried in the crook of her neck as his body shook.

"_I thought I'd never see you again,_" he whispered brokenly against her skin, his breath mingling with hot, unrestrained tears. His hand came up to tangle in her hair, and she felt her feet leaving the ground as he held her so tightly her ribcage protested. She was sobbing too, her arms wrapped around his neck and her hands in his matted hair. He smelled awful, but she didn't care. Her lips found his temple, and she kissed him desperately, needing to feel him here, safe, whole.

He lifted his face from her neck and kissed her, again and again. She framed his bearded face with her hands and smiled into his lips.

"You're here, you're really _here_," she whispered, and he leaned his forehead against hers. They were both breathing heavily. He slowly returned her feet to the floor, but held her even more tightly against him. She could feel the sharp angles of his collarbone and shoulder blades under her fingers, and as he breathed in, she heard his chest rattling ominously. A trip to Madam Pomfrey was in order, but not yet. She pulled back slightly and looked up at him.

Circles of amber stared back at her. His pupils were dilated with desire, but dark shadows under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. Tonks had seen his eyes before a full moon many times, but now a shiver of fear laced through her. There – beneath layers of elation, guilt, and pain – was a cold fury she had glimpsed only once before. This time, she could not blame it on a nightmare. Whatever had happened over the past month had awoken a part of Remus that had previously been trapped in his dreams.

He blinked, and the cold stranger was gone. Remus stood before her, spent and vulnerable.

"I missed you," he choked out, his eyes still bright with tears. "I missed you _so much_."

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. She would talk to him about it later. After she'd had a chance to replace that cold fury with warmth, and love. She wrapped her arms around him and let his shaky, rattling breath soothe her. He was _here_. He was _safe_.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about the long wait. I just moved to a new city and a new job, so life has been crazy over the past few months. Have no fear, even if it takes me a while to post new chapters! I am determined to finish this! Hopefully there won't be a wait this long again. Let me know what you think, I know things are getting complicated :D


	29. Chapter 28

Their moment of peace was brutally shortlived.

"_Ah_. I see."

A now familiar Irish brogue sounded from amidst the crowd of people who surrounded the reunited lovers. At the words, Remus jerked his head up and around, instinctively putting himself between Tonks and the large werewolf who now stood before them.

Patrick was looking at the pair with a smirk that spelled trouble.

"What do you want, Pat?" Remus asked. His quiet voice trembled, and as he tightened his hold on her wrist, Tonks suddenly realized that in his exhausted and shell-shocked state, he probably saw the larger man as a threat. She grasped his hand tightly, laying her other hand on his upper arm as she stepped out from behind him.

"It's alright, Remus. I'm safe here, we _all _are."

The young man turned weary eyes toward her, and she noticed for the first time that – underneath the grease and grime – the sandy hair at his temples was turning gray.

Even as she stared at this new development, Patrick was eyeing them shrewdly.

"So _this_ is it, eh? The _real _reason you brought us 'ere."

Slowly, Remus turned his gaze back to the red-haired werewolf. His brows were furrowed in confusion.

"Wh- what?"

Patrick jerked his head at Tonks.

"How long has _she_ had 'er claws in ya, mate? Long enough to get ya believin' every word the humans say? How are we s'posed to trust yer judgment about these people if the only reason we're 'ere is because yer _balls deep_ in some pink-haired _slag _– "

Nobody actually saw Remus move. But he must have done so, because suddenly Patrick was on the ground, clutching at his nose as it streamed blood onto the stone floor. Remus stood above him, chest heaving, his clenched fist trembling and stained red.

There was a shout from behind Tonks that sounded like Myko, but she was already throwing herself between the two men. She grabbed the front of Remus's shirt, struggling to hold him in place. His eyes were once again cold and calculating, and she fought against a sudden, instinctive urge to get away from him. This was the face of a man who had killed. Many times.

Myko was behind her, holding Patrick back in a similar manner. The red-haired man was already up and furious, seemingly unaware of the blood dripping freely down his chest. His lips were curled into a snarl, and he grappled with Myko to get free.

"Can't take the truth, eh, kid?" he spat. "Some human bitch shags you, and suddenly we're all Dumbledore's lapdogs!"

"Don't _fucking _talk about her like that!" Remus roared, and Tonks tightened her hold on his shirt. His entire body was trembling, and she could tell that he was trying very hard not to lose it completely, like he had with Nyström. He was purposely avoiding her eyes, his furious gaze fixed on Patrick.

"_STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU!_"

It took Tonks a long moment to realize that the exasperated cry had come from _her_. But when both Patrick and Remus paused momentarily to stare at her, taken aback, she quickly took advantage of the silence.

"This is _ridiculous_. You're both being _completely _unreasonable."

Seeing the argument forming on Remus's lips, she quickly said, "Remus, the man insulted _me_. Would you please let me handle it?"

The young man glared at her for a long moment, and she stared back, unwavering. Finally he nodded shortly, shooting one last deadly glance over her shoulder at Patrick before taking a step back. She released a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Keeping one hand on Remus's chest, just in case, she turned to look at the Irish werewolf.

"I would think _you_, of all people, would know better than to judge me for something I can't control," she said, forcing her voice into a quiet calm. "I didn't _choose_ to be a human, anymore than you _chose_ to be a werewolf."

Patrick had the good grace to look mildly chagrined at her words. But she was not done.

"Look, I'm not just here because of Remus. And neither is anyone else."

She gestured to the students, staff, and other humans scattered throughout the hall.

"We're here to _help you_. Because you're living beings, just like us. But also because if we let those bastards in the Ministry wipe you out, _who knows_ which of us is next? What's to stop them from moving on to Muggle-borns, or Metamorphmagi like me?"

She paused to take a breath. The hall was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Her eyes flickered to Remus, and she was relieved to see the fight slowly draining from him, the deadly look in his eyes once again fading as he stared at her.

"We're helping you because it is our only choice. To do anything else would be… _unthinkable._"

She held Patrick's gaze for what seemed like an eternity. He seemed to be examining her, testing her. She stared back at him steadily. Finally, he lifted his eyes to look over her shoulder at Remus.

"Still not sure if I trust 'er, Lupin. But I _like_ 'er. She's got _fire_."

Tonks ignored how annoying it was that he had yet to actually address _her_. Now was not the time to confront his obvious misogyny. She was simply happy when he stepped back from Myko's hold, his posture relaxing.

"Like I said, kid. We'll be watching."

And he disappeared into the crowd. The tension slowly melted from the room, and the murmur of conversation started up again as the stragglers resumed their journey out of the hall. More than half of those who had been present at the meeting were already gone, but the audience for Remus and Patrick's altercation had still been sizeable.

Tonks turned back to face Remus, and found him staring at her intently.

"What is it?"

He blinked, and she could almost forget the mask of rage that had transformed his features only a minute before. A small, disbelieving smile threatened at his lips, and he let out a huff of laughter.

"You're… you're _amazing_, you know that right?"

She slowly smiled back at him.

"Hmm. Flattery will get you lots of places, Mr. Lupin, but it _won't_ get you out of a trip to the Hospital Wing."

His smile shifted to a grimace.

"You wouldn't," he said, sounding wounded. She raised an eyebrow at him, putting her hands on her hips.

"Oy, Moony!"

A cry from the entrance to the hall demanded their attention. Alex Diamantis stood there, his arms full of medical supplies. He looked frightfully skinny, and his eyes were sunken and exhausted. Somehow, he was shooting them a crooked grin.

"Madam Pomfrey wants you to know that for every minute _you_ avoid the Hospital Wing,_ I_ get a minute in front of the entire school, telling them embarrassing stories about you. So take your time!"

Throwing a wink over his shoulder, Alex disappeared. Remus turned exasperated eyes back to Tonks, who was stifling laughter with her hand.

"No mercy," he said, shaking his head. "Absolutely no bloody mercy."

Suppressing a grin, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly to him again. Burying his nose in her hair, he pressed a lingering kiss to her temple.

"I'll see you later?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes closed as she breathed him in. He smelled like sweat and blood and weeks without a shower. But he also smelled like pine needles, wood smoke, open air, and something that was mysteriously and completely _him_. She was quickly learning that Remus changed appearance and mood more often than a hormonal teenager. But his scent was always the same. Tonks memorized it, storing it away in her mind.

"I'll come by the Hospital Wing in a few hours," she murmured. "Have to help this lot take records of everyone."

She felt him nod, and with a final brush of lips against her temple, he started off after Alex. Several other battered young people left their families to join him as he walked out, their weary camaraderie labeling them as fellow DCEF fighters. Tonks watched him as he disappeared into the hallway.

"You alright, Tonks?" Harry asked, coming up beside her. She glanced up at the black-haired boy.

"Yeah, mate. All good. 'Spose we should get back to work."

They joined the others in a circle around Professor McGonagall, to find out exactly what information they needed to get from the refugees. But Tonks found it difficult to pay attention. All she could see was Remus's tense, enraged form as he stood over the other werewolf, death in his eyes.

_If I hadn't been there… what would he have done?_

* * *

Sirius found Remus in the underground city's makeshift Hospital Wing, fully clothed and uncooperative.

"_Really_ dear, I'm _not_ going to ask you again!"

Madam Pomfrey had her hands on her hips. Any normal person would have been quailing under her fiery gaze, but Remus was steadfast.

"Poppy, I'm _fine_. Nothing I can't take care of myself, focus on the others alright? I'll just grab a few bandages – "

"The _others_ are all severely malnourished, they have lingering chest infections, and they're _magically exhausted_. Didn't any of you have _wands_?"

Something flashed in Remus's eyes.

"No, Poppy. Ollivanders doesn't exactly _cater_ to Dark Creatures with no money."

The plump matron's eyes widened, and her hands dropped to her sides. She opened her mouth, clearly ashamed, but Remus was already shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You _should_ be asking questions."

He looked back up at her, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, almost all of them have been using large amounts of wandless magic. I taught them everything I know, but it still takes a lot out of you. We- we did our best…"

His eyes drifted to the wall and his jaw clenched for a long moment. Finally, with a deep breath, he looked back.

"We did our best to monitor how people were doing, but there were a few who went too far, used too much…"

He didn't need to finish. He bowed his head, and Poppy and Sirius exchanged a horrified glance. Death by magical exhaustion was an awful way to go.

"How are they?" Remus asked quietly, his gaze still on the floor. "Are they… are they all going to make it?"

"Yes, dear. They're all going to be _fine_."

Poppy's voice was steady and sure. The young man looked up and gave her a tentative smile. But the woman was not finished.

"They're going to be fine because they all _cooperated_ with me. Now _sit down_, and take your shirt off!"

She gestured emphatically to a nearby bed, and Sirius snorted with laughter. Remus shot him an irritated glance.

"You're no help," he muttered. With one last tortured look at Poppy, he sat down and removed his shirt, slowly and grudgingly. As Poppy began to bustle around him, prodding him with stethoscopes and other strange instruments, Sirius tried to distract him with conversation.

"It's good to see you, kid."

Trying to ignore the lit wand Madam Pomfrey was shining into his left eyeball, Remus said, "You too, Sirius. Wasn't sure I'd be seeing any of you again. Nice to be back."

"Do you know anything about what's been happening here?"

Remus shrugged.

"The kids who brought us down from the Forbidden Forest were talking up a storm, but I can't say I actually took in much of it. Something about fireworks and foreign schools. Did you send some of the refugees to other countries?"

Sirius nodded. "Beauxbaton took about a thousand veelas and vampires. Some schools in the Americas took a few hundred, we even sent some refugees to New Zealand and Australia. I don't know how he did it, but Dumbledore managed to find families all over the world to take people in. It's not just us, anymore. Your people have a lot of friends, Remus."

The young man swallowed, his eyes bright.

"That's… that's great news, Sirius. I don't really know how to thank you, how to thank _everyone_."

"Don't start thanking us yet, mate," Sirius said, taking a seat on the bed opposite Remus. "We've still got a long ways to go before we can change the legislative and social bullshit that got you all into this mess."

Remus nodded, his jaw clenching.

"Is that where Dumbledore is? The Ministry?"

Sirius nodded. "Along with most of the former Order members. We helped set things up here, but pretty soon the kids were running it better than we could. So now we spend a lot of time at the Ministry, _politicking_."

He grimaced, and Remus looked at him intently.

"How's _that_ going?"

Sirius shot him a frustrated glance.

"Fucking terribly, mate. I'm sorry to say it, but it's going to take a miracle to get enough people on our side to push through reforms. Dennis Arthur and the Weasley twins have been sending out fliers every few days, telling the _truth_ to the public. But a lot of people just don't want to hear it. They want to believe the safe little lies that the Daily Prophet spews out. They're not even willing to _read_ about Dark Creatures, how can we expect to change their minds?"

Remus was staring down at the bedspread, his shoulders slumped as he picked at a stray thread. Sirius grimaced again.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to unload on you."

"It's fine," Remus said softly. "We'll just keep working at it. That's all we _can _do."

"That's right," Sirius agreed, nodding. "We'll beat 'em, kid. No matter how long it takes, we'll beat 'em. Barrett may be an evil bastard, but we're used to fighting _Voldemort_ – "

Sirius knew for a fact that Remus never even batted an eye at the sound of You-Know-Who's name. But this time, something was horribly different. The young man flinched violently, as though the word had been a physical blow. He cowered away from Poppy, and skittered backwards across the bed, pressing his back to the wall and huddling into himself. His wide-eyed gaze darted about the room, and his chest heaved in shallow, desperate breaths. Sirius was forcibly reminded of a cornered, wounded animal.

Sirius found himself on his feet, gently pushing Poppy aside. He had seen symptoms like this before.

"Hey," he said calmly, holding his hands out to the sides to show that he was unarmed. "Remus, it's alright. You're safe, you're at Hogwarts. Nobody's going to hurt you."

The young man's eyes were still wide, and they passed by Sirius without recognition. The Order members had long suspected that Remus had a mild case of PTSD. It was clear that events of the past month had made it much worse.

Sirius stepped forward, very slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was make any sudden movements. He had seen Remus take down the Irish werewolf in the Meeting Hall. The man was dangerous at the best of times. Sirius didn't want to find out what he was capable of at his worst.

"It's _me_, kid. Can you look at me?"

The wide amber eyes latched onto his, and Sirius nodded.

"Good. You _know_ me. I'm not going to hurt you."

Remus stared at him for a long moment, then took a shuddering breath.

"Reg?"

The word was so quiet, so uncertain, that Sirius was half convinced he had imagined it.

"W- what? What did you call me?"

But Remus was shaking his head. He brought a trembling hand to his face, scrubbing his eyes furiously. And Sirius felt a lump forming in his throat.

"What did you just say, Remus?"

The young man looked up at him, frightened and confused. He was back from wherever he had been. Furiously, selfishly, Sirius considered yelling Voldemort's name again. What could it possibly mean? Why had his little brother's name come out of this young werewolf's mouth?

"Wha- I… I don't know… What just happened?" Remus stammered.

Sirius just stared at him, and the young man began to look increasingly nervous.

"What did I do? Did I hurt you? _Fuck_, Sirius, what did I do?!"

Poppy shoved Sirius aside and tried to grasp Remus by the arms. The young man shied away from her.

"You didn't do _anything_, Remus, you just gave us a scare," she said with forced calm. "I'm going to get Severus to come take a look at you, it's nothing to worry about. You've been through a lot, lately, it's only natural – "

"I don't want Severus _poking around_ in my head!" Remus cried. "I'm not a _kid_ anymore, I can deal with it on my own!"

"No, you_ can't_."

Sirius had found his voice again. His tone was firm, immovable.

"You can't, and you shouldn't have to."

Poppy jumped in again.

"Remus, most of your friends are showing signs of PTSD, it's nothing to be _ashamed_ of – "

"Are you asking Severus to stick his nose into _their_ heads?"

"Well, no, but – "

"But _what_? I'm a special case? I've got too many _issues_ to be left alone?"

By now, their raised voices had attracted the attention of several other people in the hospital wing. But Remus didn't notice. He was livid. Standing up abruptly, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

"I know I'm a mess," he said fiercely. "I'm _dealing_ with it. I've already given everything I have to this fucking wreck of a world, _don't ask me_ to give up my own _mind_."

He strode to the door and slammed it open, disappearing before they could figure out how to stop him. Sirius started after him, but Poppy grabbed his arm.

"Don't. It won't do any good."

"He's _remembering_ things. You heard what he said! You know what it might mean!"

"We don't know _anything_, Sirius. And we can't _say_ anything. He has to do this on his own. If Severus tried to enter his mind against his will, it could be disastrous."

"Poppy, I care about Remus just as much as you do. He deserves all the help we can give him. But he is _dangerous_. He's a loose cannon right now, and he's _dating_ my _cousin_."

Poppy brought her hand to her brow, grimacing as though she had just gotten a migraine.

"I'm going to talk to Dumbledore," Sirius said determinedly. "If anyone can make Remus get help, it's _him_."

Poppy looked up at him.

"Alright but… just be _careful_. I know I don't need to remind you of this, but Remus is the _only _person everyone in this castle actually _trusts_. Remove him from the equation…"

"And we're all fucked," Sirius finished. He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing at the stubble he hadn't had time to shave that morning. He needed a drink. A big one.

* * *

**A/N:** Just wanted you all to know that any similarities between this story and current events are completely - and disturbingly - coincidental. I planned out most of this quite a while ago.

Also, there are obviously a lot of side stories in here that I'm not going to have time to tell - interactions between Hogwarts students and refugees, what Dennis and the Weasley twins are up to, the refugees who went to other countries, etc. While I'm going to try and address some of these things later, I'm also more than open to you guys writing your own interpretations. I kinda bit off more than I can chew with this AU, and there's so much more to flesh out. If you write a companion story, let me know and I'll include a link to it in the author's notes!

Hope you're all doing well, and you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you so much for the reviews!


	30. Chapter 29

Tonks was about to enter another crowded dormitory with her clipboard, when Sirius suddenly appeared at her elbow.

"Cuz, can they spare you here?" he said quietly, pulling her aside. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Not really, no. What's up?"

Sirius shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

"It's Remus."

Something leaden fell into the pit of her stomach.

"What's wrong? Is he alright? Did Madam Pomfrey – "

"He's _fine_. Physically, at least," Sirius said, holding up a hand to stop her worried rant. "He…"

"… what?"

Sirius huffed in frustration, running a hand through his unruly black hair.

"He's just not in a good state. Poppy and I said some things that really upset him, and… can you come with me? I _have _to talk to him, but I don't think he'll even _look_ at me right now."

Tonks stared at him incredulously.

"What did you _say _to him?"

Sirius sighed again, and pulled her into an alcove where they had some privacy.

"Look… do you remember what I told you the day of the festival?"

"Yeah, you said Remus had issues, and that I should be careful," she said bluntly. "I _know_ that, Sirius. I was standing right there when he hit that other werewolf. He's jumpy, he's angry, he's got a _right_ to be!"

"Of _course_ he does, Tonks," Sirius said. "But he's not just _jumpy_. I said Voldemort's name in the Hospital Wing just now, and he had a fucking _flashback_. Woke up a few minutes later and was afraid he had _attacked_ me."

"_What_?" Tonks breathed. "That doesn't make any sense, he's said Voldemort's name before!"

"I know, but I think…"

Sirius trailed off, biting his lip.

"What?" Tonks prompted impatiently, but her cousin shook his head.

"It's nothing. Anyway, Poppy said that we should get Severus to take a look at him, and Remus _freaked_. Said he didn't want anyone poking around in his head."

"Well, do you blame him? Would _you_ want Snape reading all your innermost thoughts?"

They both shuddered.

"Obviously, it's not a very pleasant prospect, for either of them," Sirius admitted. "But the truth of the matter is that Remus needs _help_, and he's refusing to cooperate."

"And you think _I _can convince him?"

"You have a better chance than anyone else. Except for maybe Alex or Myko, but they're dealing with their own issues right now. You're the best chance Remus has of getting the help he needs _sooner_, rather than too late."

"Too late… for what?" Tonks asked, wary and concerned. "You don't actually think he'd _hurt_ someone?" she asked. Her tone was incredulous, but inside, she couldn't help but wonder. Sirius shrugged helplessly.

"He already _has_, Tonks."

She had nothing to say to that. Sirius sighed again, running a hand down his face.

"I'm afraid Remus has been hurting people his entire life. I _know_ – " he held up a hand to cut off her defensive reaction. " – it's not his fault. We can't even begin to imagine the things he's had to do to save innocent people. But that's exactly the point – _we don't know_. We don't know what's going to _set him off_. This past month has made him a lot worse, and school starts in two days. What if some kid bumps into him in the hallway, and Remus breaks their arm?"

"He wouldn't _do_ that – "

"He might. You didn't see him in the Hospital Wing. He didn't _recognize_ me, he called me – "

Sirius cut himself off abruptly, turning to the wall with his hand over his mouth. Tonks was too upset to notice.

"So… what? Are you going to lock him in his room and force a Legilimens on him? Sirius, you can't _do _that."

"I don't want it to come to that. That's why I'm asking you to talk to him. He needs to hear this from someone he really cares about. Someone he knows cares about _him_."

Tonks suddenly felt very tired. Groaning, she massaged her temples with her fingertips.

"Sirius, I'm not a _psychiatrist_. Yes, I care about Remus. _Deeply_. But that doesn't mean I know how to talk to him about this. Isn't there someone more qualified? Lily? Dumbledore?"

"Lily's swamped with patients right now, and Dumbledore is at the Ministry. I'm not expecting you to change his mind in a day, cuz. Just… just _try_, alright?"

Tonks took a deep breath. As far as she could tell, Remus had spent almost his entire life doing things he didn't want to do. It was her turn.

"Fine. I'd much rather spend my time with him doing more _enjoyable_ things, but I know how important this is."

Ignoring Sirius's smirk at the mention of the 'more enjoyable things', she squared her shoulders.

"I'll give it a try."

Her cousin's smirk turned into a relieved grin. He gave her a quick, fierce hug.

"_Thank you_. Come on, he might be in the Room of Requirement, beating the crap out of a punching bag."

"Hey wait," she said, resisting as he tried to pull her along the hallway by her elbow. "_You're_ not coming!"

He blinked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"How d'you expect me to have a heart to heart with him if _you're _there?"

Sirius looked exasperated.

"Tonks, I… I don't think it's a good idea…"

And then she understood.

"Oh Merlin," she breathed, her chest constricting. "You don't trust him to be alone with me."

Sirius shuffled his feet, looking supremely uncomfortable. Suddenly, Tonks was livid.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she cried. "That man risked his life and his sanity to save thousands of innocent people, and now – because he punched an asshole and he freaked out at You-Know-Who's name – he's suddenly a menace to society?"

"You know that's not what I meant, Tonks – "

"Well, what _did _you mean?" she shouted. Sirius looked around furtively, reminding her that their alcove was not entirely private.

"You're my _cousin_, Tonks, and I _love_ you. What d'you think your mum would do to me if you got hurt?"

"Remus is _not_ going to hurt me," she growled.

"I'm not willing to take that risk," Sirius growled back.

"Too bad. If I catch you following me, you're going to be puking up slugs for a _week_."

With that, she shoved her clipboard into his chest.

"Make yourself useful," she snapped, and stormed away.

* * *

Draco was breaking his promise. Harry and the others had been appalled to learn that he smoked, and the black-haired boy had practically begged him to quit.

"It's really bad for you, mate, it'll give you diseases that even magic can't fix," he had implored. At first, Draco had been annoyed and angry that they couldn't mind their own business. But when Ginny found him hiding in the garden behind the Burrow with a cigarette, and burst into tears, he finally admitted that maybe they were just worried about him. He had promised to try and quit, but it was proving difficult.

The lake was his favorite place to smoke. There was a small ledge where the grass met the sandy beach; the high water mark that had been eaten away by erosion. If Draco sat against it, nobody could see him, unless they were standing on the beach.

He really needed this cigarette. The past month had been incredibly stressful, and Draco had found himself out here at least once a day, trying to calm himself down. In a way, he hated himself for it. Witnessing the aftermath of such horrible trauma, navigating situations fraught with tension and grief… it was hard on everyone. But noone else had to run out here like a frightened child, hands shaking so badly he could barely light his cigarette.

He hated it. But he couldn't fix it. Every time he saw someone lash out – like Professor Lupin just now – he saw his father. Felt the man's fists on his body, heard the cold fury in his voice. Lucius Malfoy was a scared, bitter, cruel man, and it had taken Draco a long time to realize that he had not been the cause of his father's anger. He had simply been the punching bag.

Draco knew that the others suspected. Harry had seen his back, for Merlin's sake. His mother knew, as did Snape. They had offered, once, to find Draco a therapist – someone he could talk to. But he had refused. He didn't need pity, he didn't need to _talk_. He needed to erase the memories, overwrite them. He needed to forget it, not dredge it all back up again.

Draco lit another cigarette, hands still shaking. He and the others had watched with shocked horror as Professor Lupin attacked the other werewolf in the dungeons. Until a month ago, they had only known Lupin as a mild-mannered, peaceful man who just happened to be a werewolf. But the events of this summer had revealed to them all just how much the man was hiding, how deeply affected he was by his experiences. The look on Lupin's face as he stood over the Irish werewolf… Draco shuddered. He had seen that look before, from icy cold blue eyes.

Movement to his left made Draco look up in alarm. Nobody else ever came out here. But now, he watched with wary concern as Professor Lupin strode angrily out onto the beach, running his hands through his hair in obvious agitation. The man looked exactly the same as when he had arrived – threadbare trousers and ripped shirt covered in grime, feet bare, his hair and beard unkempt… Draco wondered idly if he had even been to the Hospital Wing.

The young man paced on the shoreline in front of Draco, clearly too enraged to notice that he had company. He was rubbing furiously at his right temple, muttering to himself as he glared down at the sand. Suddenly, he bent down, picked up a rock, and hurled it at the lake with all his might. His incoherent cry of rage echoed across the water, and Draco shivered at the helpless despair in his voice. With a second cry – almost a sob – Lupin dropped to his knees in the sand, looking down at his hands numbly. A long moment passed, broken only by the sound of waves lapping softly against the shore and Lupin's fast, ragged breaths.

"You want a cigarette?"

It was time to let Lupin know he was there. Draco's heart raced as he watched the werewolf leap into a crouched, cat-like position, amber eyes fixed coldly on the 15-year old boy sitting above him. Draco had no doubt that Lupin was fully capable of killing him. It would be ridiculously easy for the older man. And for one truly terrifying moment, Draco looked into amber eyes and saw nothing of the man he knew. His breath caught, and he instinctively shrank backwards… and then Lupin blinked, and straightened up.

"D- Draco?" he stammered. His eyes darted around, probably looking for any other witnesses to his small breakdown. His gaze returned to his student, and Draco could see that he was embarrassed.

"What… what are you doing here?"

Draco shrugged, forcing an air of nonchalance into his voice.

"Needed a breather. Looks like you do too."

Lupin grimaced, pulling at his hair again.

"Yeah, it's um… it's been a long month."

There was a brief, terribly awkward silence.

"You want a cigarette?" Draco asked again, simply because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Lupin looked up at him with a torn expression. Finally, he shook his head ruefully.

"Fuck it all to hell," he muttered under his breath, before throwing himself down in the sand next to Draco. He took the cigarette from the boy's outstretched hand, lighting it with a practiced flick of his fingers. He took a deep drag and let the smoke out slowly, his eyes closed. Draco glanced down and noticed that he was not the only one whose hands were shaking.

The two young men sat in silence, staring out at the lake as they methodically brought the cigarettes up to their mouths, put them down again, and repeated.

"You really shouldn't smoke these, you know," Lupin said softly, after several long minutes. He was speaking familiar words, but his voice held none of the horrified judgment that so often accompanied them.

"I know," Draco said simply, and Lupin nodded. They lapsed back into silence. Eventually, they both stubbed out the butts in the sand.

"Want another one? I don't feel like going inside just yet."

He held another cigarette out to Lupin. The man took it, his lips curling up in a humourless smirk.

"What a wonderful role model I am," he said bitterly, lighting the cigarette with his fingers again. Draco shrugged.

"I've had worse."

Lupin looked over at him, concern flickering in his gaze.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. It just gets a bit… too much in there sometimes, you know?"

Lupin nodded silently, and Draco returned his gaze.

"Are _you_ alright?"

The man turned back to the lake abruptly, jaw clenched.

"Yeah."

Draco turned back to the lake as well, and suddenly let out an involuntary snort of laughter. Lupin looked at him sharply.

"What?"

The boy shook his head, still laughing quietly.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we? Sitting out here, pretending like nothing's bothering us. Like we're _fine_."

Lupin swallowed thickly, looking down at the sand between his bare feet. Finally, he let out a huff of laughter as well, and ran a hand across his eyes.

"I don't even remember what _fine_ feels like," he said ruefully, before turning concerned eyes on his student. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry that you all got caught up in this. You shouldn't have to see these things. None of you."

Draco shrugged again.

"It's nothing I haven't already seen. I worry about the others sometimes, though. They're not used to this."

"And you are?"

Draco just looked at Lupin, and the man swallowed thickly, turning his gaze back out to the water again. There was another long silence.

"I was there, you know," Lupin said suddenly, still staring at the lake. "When they arrested your father."

Draco's fists clenched involuntarily, and his breath became fast and shallow. He didn't speak, but Lupin continued anyway.

"He was yelling… _screaming_ that the Dark Lord was going to return, come back and kill us all. He'd been on the run for so long, he was starting to lose it."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco asked furiously. Lupin turned to meet his gaze.

"It was your mother. She was the one who told us where to find him."

Draco gaped at him. He couldn't breath. _What?_

"Ever since, I've always wondered _why_," Lupin continued. "Why would she betray her own husband?"

Draco's fingernails were biting into his palms, and he turned his eyes to the ground, burning holes in the sand. The infernal man was still talking.

"But then I came here, and I met _you_."

He paused, obviously struggling to find the right words to say.

"Your mother loves you very much, Draco. I'm sure you already know that, and I'm sure you know it's not your fault what he did to you."

"I _know_ it's not my fault," Draco spat, his entire body shaking. "Doesn't change the fact that I _loved_ him. Doesn't change the fact that every time someone touches me, I have to force myself not to pull away. I know I'm messed up, professor. I'm trying to fix it, but everybody needs to just leave me the fuck alone."

To his surprise, Lupin let out a small chuckle.

"What?"

The man shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

"Nothing, it's just… well, I said something like that to Sirius, not ten minutes ago."

"What did he say?"

Lupin shrugged.

"Dunno. I left."

The older man had found a small stick, and was now drawing abstract designs in the sand between his feet. Draco – slowly calming down – studied him for a long moment.

"_Are_ you alright?" he asked again. Lupin glanced up at him briefly, before turning back to his drawings. Swallowing, he finally shook his head.

"No. No, I don't think I am."

Draco said nothing, letting Lupin decide how much to tell him. It was strange, being privy to a professor's personal thoughts. But Draco knew how it felt to be surrounded by well-meaning people who couldn't possibly have a clue what was going through his head. Draco was probably the only one of Lupin's students who had first-hand knowledge of what violent trauma could do to a person's mind.

Lupin cursed quietly, dropping his head into his hands.

"I scared Dora," he murmured, so softly that Draco had to strain to hear him. "I _scared_ her, and probably everyone else as well. And then in the Hospital Wing…"

He trailed off, his face darkening as he stared blankly ahead. Finally, he swiped a hand across his eyes.

"I hurt Patrick without even thinking about it, without even _knowing_ I was _doing_ it. What have I become?"

Draco was sure the last question was rhetorical, but as the silence stretched on, he awkwardly cast about for an answer.

"You're just tired. It's been a bloody horrible month, I can't even imagine everything you've gone through. It makes sense that you'd be punchy, just give yourself some time."

Lupin swallowed, not looking particularly comforted. Draco could tell there was something else, something much bigger that was bothering him. But he didn't expect Lupin to confide in him. Frankly, he didn't really _want_ him to. Something in the man's eyes was vaguely frightening, like a storm on the horizon.

"If I had known – "

Lupin started speaking, abruptly cut himself off, hesitated, then continued quietly.

"If I had known what he was doing to you… he wouldn't have made it to Azkaban in _nearly_ as good condition."

Draco stared at the older man for a while, completely unsure how to react to such a statement. Thankfully, Lupin was staring out over the lake again, and didn't seem to expect a response.

After a long moment, Draco stood up, brushing sand off his trousers.

"'Spose I'd better get in there and help. I always come out here when I can't stand being around people any more. But then I'm just stuck with my own thoughts, and I can't decide which is worse."

Lupin stood as well, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I know what you mean," he said, and then looked at Draco uncertainly. "Thanks. Getting stuck with my own thoughts is becoming a more daunting prospect lately, so I'm glad you were hiding out here. And thanks for the cigarettes."

"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. The others would kill me, they think I've quit."

Lupin shot him a rueful grin.

"Mum's the word. I don't want to know what Dora would do if she found out I smoke…"

"Probably hex you into oblivion."

"Undoubtedly."

"You coming in?" Draco said, gesturing towards the castle. Lupin hesitated.

"In a few minutes. Seems like everybody wants something from me in there, and I don't have much left to give at the moment."

Draco nodded, and turned to leave. After only a few steps, he turned back abruptly.

"Professor?"

Lupin, who was already looking out across the water, turned to him with an eyebrow raised. Draco struggled to find the right words to express the question that had been burning within him since Lupin had arrived on the beach.

"D'you.. d'you think they're right? My mum and Snape? They want me to see a psychiatrist, but I…"

"Get angry just thinking about it?" Lupin finished for him. Draco nodded, relieved that someone finally understood. The older man bit his lip, turning back to the lake with thoughtful eyes.

"I don't know what they expect from us. Do they actually think that baring our souls to somebody else will help?"

Draco shifted uncertainly on his feet, not sure if Lupin expected him to respond. Finally, the man sighed deeply and turned back to him.

"I'm not a good person to ask about this, Draco. Sirius wants me to get help too, but I can't – I can't face it. _I_ don't even know half the things inside my head, I don't want someone else rummaging around in there, trying to _heal_ me or some bullshit. It – it's too dangerous, there's too much at risk…"

Draco couldn't really say he understood all of this rambling. He supposed it must have something to do with the memories Lupin had lost. Fred and George's Extendable Ears were wonderful inventions, but sometimes they exposed the children to secrets they probably would have been happier not knowing.

"But _you_," Lupin continued, "you have the rest of your life ahead of you. You can be happy, you can thumb your nose at that bastard and leave him firmly in your past."

Draco stared at him with wide eyes. Lupin ran a hand down his bearded face, and shrugged.

"If there's a chance that talking to someone might help you get there… maybe you owe it to yourself to try."

They stood there for a long moment, both staring at the ground. Finally, Draco stepped forward, pulling the last cigarette out of the pack in his hand. He held it out to Lupin, who looked at it, then met Draco's eyes questioningly. The boy pushed it towards him, and the young werewolf took it uncertainly.

"But it's your last one," he said. Draco shrugged.

"My last pack, too. Got 'em in Knockturn Alley, haven't had a chance to go back. Guess I _have_ to quit, now."

He shot Lupin a thin smile.

"You know… _you_ have the rest of your life ahead of you too."

He turned back to the castle, leaving behind a stunned young man and an addiction.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone! Glad to hear you're enjoying it :)


	31. Chapter 30

Tonks knocked tentatively on the DADA classroom door, straining her ears for any sign of life within. She had already checked the Room of Requirement, the Greek and British sections of the underground city, and everywhere in between. If Remus wasn't here, she really had no idea where to look next. To her relief, she heard quiet footsteps within a few seconds, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for a difficult conversation.

The door creaked open slowly, and Tonks found herself face to face with a weary Remus Lupin. His hair was wet and mussed from a shower, he was cleanshaven, and he was wearing a pair of khaki trousers and a blue shirt that she recognized from his professor wardrobe. The clothes hung from his frame more than they ever had before.

His haggard expression lightened at the sight of her, and his amber eyes sparkled.

"All done for the day?" he asked, a grin slowly splitting his face as he looked down at her. Tonks simply stared at him, feeling immensely guilty. He had no idea that she had been sent here on a mission.

Obviously not bothered by her lack of reply, Remus snaked a long arm around her waist and pulled her into the classroom, shutting the door and promptly pressing her back against it. Any psychiatric strategy Tonks might have had went right out the window as he attacked her mouth with single-minded focus.

He was everywhere; his lips, tongue, and hands explored her with barely restrained lust, and she almost lost herself in the moment. But as he pulled away for air, she caught a glimpse of his eyes – golden, and flashing with desire. Suddenly, she remembered why she was there.

"Remus," she whispered breathily, trying desperately to ignore what he was doing to the soft skin at her collarbone.

He hummed against her neck, obviously not in a talkative mood. As he pressed the length of his body against hers, Tonks was left with no doubt what sort of mood he was in. Belatedly, she remembered that it was almost full moon. The irritating sound of Molly Weasley's month-old warning echoed almost absurdly through Tonks's mind – _normal men are bad enough…_

Remus pressed her more firmly against the wood of the door, then reached down and hoisted her off her feet, wrapping her legs snugly around his waist. Though part of her thrilled at the development, a larger part of her brain set off alarm bells. She wanted this with Remus. _Badly_. But he was not himself right now. A month of fighting and death, and an impending transformation had turned him into a barely controlled mass of hormones. She was certain that if they went through with this right now, Remus would be heartily ashamed of himself later on. Not to mention the fact that she wasn't mentally prepared to go to bed with a randy werewolf on a waxing moon.

"Remus," she said, more firmly this time. His thorough investigation of her left ear did not stop, and she finally put a hand on his chest, pushing him away firmly. He paused, looking at her in confusion. She looked back up at him, hoping that her eyes were saying what her mouth was unable to voice.

Her heart almost melted when, after a long moment, his eyes widened in horror. The pressure at her back disappeared abruptly as he lowered her to the ground, and he stumbled backwards, pressing his hands into his pockets as he tried desperately to control himself.

"Dora, I…" he stammered, his cheeks flaming. "I – "

She hadn't meant to upset him so much. Tears pricked at her eyes as she closed the distance between them again, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"It's okay, it's okay," she said tearfully. "I just… I don't want our first time to be something either one of us regrets."

He was still standing stiffly, his hands in his pockets. She could feel his forehead pressed into the crook of her shoulder.

"Would… would you regret it?"

His voice was soft, higher than normal, and terribly vulnerable. Tonks blinked furiously as an errant tear tracked down her cheek.

"Of _course_ not!" she whispered vehemently, pulling back to take his face in her hands. He looked utterly miserable.

"Of course I wouldn't," she repeated, more tenderly this time. "I'm just afraid _you_ would, right now."

His shattered gaze had been fixed somewhere to the right of her nose, but at her words he glanced up and stared at her for a long moment. Something in her eyes must have bolstered him, for he swallowed and tentatively reached for her waist, pulling her into a loose hug. As he buried his nose in her shoulder once again, he let out a tiny snort of humourless laughter.

"You seem to know me better than I know myself, Miss Tonks," he said wearily, his voice muffled. His arms tightened around her.

"You're right, you know," he continued, and swallowed again. "I – I'm always a bit of a mess this time of month. And I don't want to share you with the _wolf_."

Tonks brought a hand up to stroke the back of his neck soothingly, burrowing closer into the warmth of his arms. They stood there for a long moment as their breathing and heartbeats gradually slowed down. Finally, she pulled her head back to look at him.

"Well, I don't know. I'm sure there'll come a time when I quite like this side of you," she said teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. To her relief, Remus quirked a small smile.

"Not now, though," he said quietly, seriously. "I'm even more of a wreck than usual. It was… God, it was selfish of me to even _think_ about – "

"Remus Lupin, if I hear one more _self-loathing_ phrase come out of your mouth, so help me, I'll…"

She cast about for a proper threat as his eyes widened nervously.

"… I'll forcefeed you _blueberries_!" she finally finished, remembering Lara's threat from the month before.

Slowly, incredulously, Remus's face split into a crooked smile. It didn't quite meet his eyes, but it was something.

"I fucking hate blueberries," he muttered ruefully.

"Why? I rather like them."

He shrugged.

"Dunno. The texture, I 'spose."

The cessation of amorous activities had clearly sapped Remus of a momentary boost of adrenaline, and he settled wearily on the edge of his desk, pulling Tonks by the hips until she stood between his knees. Tonks ran her fingers through his hair absently, looking around the all too familiar classroom. She suddenly let out an uncharacteristic giggle. Remus – whose eyes had closed contentedly under her ministrations – peered at her.

"This is where we met," she said simply, grinning. He raised a laconic eyebrow, and glanced towards the door.

"Indeed it is," he replied. "You threw yourself into my arms, if I remember correctly."

She opened her mouth indignantly, and he began to smirk. His eyes sparkled with a familiar hint of mischief, and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"I did _not_ throw myself into your arms, I _tripped_," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. He chuckled, and his hands tightened on her hips.

"Ah yes," he murmured. "Well, whatever the reason, I was quite pleased with the situation. You were beautiful. You always are."

The words stole Tonks's breath away. She stared at him, open-mouthed. He returned her gaze steadily, suddenly very serious.

"Dora, I want you to know that I would _never_ hurt you."

His golden eyes bored into hers intently. Tonks suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. Had she been so obvious? Had he seen the fear in her eyes in the Meeting Hall?

"I know that I can be a little… unstable at times," he continued, his jaw clenching and his gaze shifting to a spot on the back wall. "I scared you today, and I scared you last month at the Burrow."

He swallowed, and his eyes darted to the floor.

"But… I would do _anything_ to protect you. _Anything_."

A long silence followed his words. He stared at the floor, and Tonks stared at the top of his head, her hands resting on his shoulders. She already knew what she had to say next, but it still took a lot of courage to open her mouth, take a breath…

"Will you protect me from yourself?"

Remus stiffened, but he didn't look up. He kept his face angled towards the floor, but she could tell that her words had unleashed havoc in his mind. His shoulders moved methodically as he took long, deliberate breaths.

Finally he looked up, eyes wide and lost.

"How?"

The whisper was so quiet that for a moment, Tonks wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. But then he said it again, and this time his voice broke with emotion.

"How do I do that?"

Tonks cast desperately around for the right words.

"You get _help_. You- you- "

"Who from? _Snape_? Dumbledore?" he cried, suddenly pulling away from her and stalking towards the window. "I can't ask them to do that, it's too dangerous! Snape has already been inside my head once, and it nearly drove him _mad._"

He reached the window, and gripped the stone frame so tightly his knuckles turned white. Rubbing his brow furiously with his other hand, he let out a soft groan.

"I don't even know what's _happening_ to me," he continued quietly, as though he had forgotten that she was there. "I keep – I keep feeling as though _somebody else_ is in my head, telling me to do things I would _never_ – "

He cut himself off, breathing harshly. Cautiously, Tonks followed him to the window. She put a tentative hand on his arm and leaned over, trying to catch his eyes.

When she did, she wished she hadn't. She had seen many emotions playing across Remus Lupin's face – anger, misery, happiness, desire… even fear, on occasion. But nothing could have prepared her for the sheer terror that now shone in his eyes. Remus was afraid – _deathly_ afraid. Of himself.

When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly steady.

"I didn't used to remember anything from before…" He gestured vaguely to his right temple. "I still don't, not really…"

He looked out at the Hogwarts grounds, eyes darting across the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid's cabin, and finally the Forbidden Forest. Tonks followed his gaze, but turned back to him when he took a deep, shaking breath.

"I can't say why," he began softly, "but I've got a horrible feeling that I wasn't a good person at all."

"Remus, you were a _child_."

Tonks grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him around to face her.

"You weren't a bad person, you were a little boy. I don't know what gave you this notion, but whatever it is, it wasn't your fault."

Remus stared at her for a long time, fear still etched into his features. Finally he looked down, pulling her hand up and clasping it between both of his. He grimaced, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't want to remember. _I don't fucking want to remember_. But if Severus, or… or… or Dumbledore start _poking around_…"

He closed his eyes tightly, and Tonks brought her other hand up to join the one he was already crushing.

"Remus, they are brilliant wizards. They're not going to do anything stupid. And – and even if for some reason you _do_ remember…"

She reached across and tilted his face up to look at her, catching his eyes intently.

"You don't actually think we'd just leave you to go through this alone?"

Wide amber eyes searched hers desperately.

"Whatever happened, it's in the past, it's _over_. We're here for you. _I'm_ here for you."

"Dora, I – I don't want you to have to deal with my issues. You – all the others – you all have your own lives, your own problems. Hell, we've got a couple thousand Dark Creatures hiding in the dungeons! We have enough battles to fight without dragging my sordid history into it."

Remus had pulled away, and was now pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard. It was a familiar scene, and Tonks was beginning to feel a familiar anger.

"So what, are you just going to give up? Go on like nothing's the matter, remove yourself from any situation where you might lose control, and pray to Merlin that you don't accidentally _hurt someone_?"

Remus gave her a sharp look.

"It's worked so far, hasn't it?"

Tonks scoffed.

"Depends on your definition of 'worked'. Remus, you know as well as I do that it's gotten worse. You have PTSD, it's nothing to be ashamed – "

"I can deal with it, Tonks, I'm not a child!"

"Then stop _acting_ like one!"

Remus turned abruptly to his desk, bracing his hands on it and bowing his head, breathing harshly. A long moment passed, then Tonks stepped forward cautiously, coming to a stop on the other side of the desk, directly in front of him.

"Remus," she said, her voice once again soft and calm. "You've been fighting uphill battles your whole life. You risked everything to save those people in the dungeons."

She paused. He still hadn't looked at her. When she continued, her voice quavered.

"Why do you keep turning away from the fight to save yourself?"

Slowly, Remus raised his head. Tonks didn't give him time to argue.

"You deserve a good life just as much as anyone else in this castle. If you fought as hard for yourself as you do for them… we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Dora, it's not that simple – "

"Why not? Why isn't it that simple? Do you want to be with me?"

Remus blinked in confusion.

"Of – of _course_ I do."

"And you want to protect me?"

Remus eyes darkened.

"I would do _anything_ – "

"Yes yes, we've established that," Tonks said airily. "And right now, the _anything_ you keep talking about consists of coming with me to the kitchens, eating your body weight in food because you're frightfully skinny, and then talking this whole thing over with Snape."

Remus gaped at her. There was still a healthy amount of fear in his eyes, and Tonks walked around the desk, taking his hand once again and looking up at him more sympathetically.

"You must admit that my logic is sound," she murmured. He finally closed his mouth, and ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

"Dora, _please_…"

"Remus, I'm not going to make you do anything. I think this is something _you_ have to want, or else it won't work."

She pulled his hand to her heart, clutching it tightly as she looked up at him.

"But you should know that I… I…"

_Goddammit Tonksy, just say it_.

"I _love _you, Remus Lupin."

The young man inhaled sharply, his stunned eyes fixed on hers. She rambled on before she lost her courage.

"And for purely selfish reasons, I want you to live a long and happy life. I will fight to make that happen, even if I have to fight _you_."

For a long moment, Remus did nothing but stare at her. Then, as though a spring had suddenly been released, he shot forward, pulling her into his arms and kissing her fiercely.

"Dora, Dora…" he whispered reverently against her neck. She grinned, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled back slightly, taking her face in his hands and kissing every inch of it.

"I love you too," he said, his voice quivering with happiness as an ecstatic grin split his face. She grinned back at him, tears partially obscuring her vision.

For a long time they simply stood there, holding each other. Then, with a final reverant kiss on her shoulder, Remus straightened to his full height.

"I'll do it."

She looked up at him, stunned. He still looked quite unhappy at the prospect, but he managed a small smile.

"I'll do it for you."

To her horror, Tonks began crying in earnest. Remus's brow furrowed in concern, but she was already talking through her tears.

"Really? You'll talk to Snape and Dumbledore?"

He swallowed, then nodded.

"Yes. If that's what you want."

Unable to stop the sob that rose from her throat, Tonks threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He held her tightly, rubbing her back in soothing circles. In the back of her mind, she dimly registered that crying in a man's arms wasn't nearly as mortifying as she had assumed. It was rather nice, in fact.

She calmed down after several minutes, and reluctantly pulled away, giving him a watery, self-conscious smile. He returned it in kind, reaching up to wipe some of the tears from her cheeks.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Haven't been sleeping well, it makes me kind of emotional."

He chuckled lightly.

"Same here."

He kissed her again, and she sighed happily against him. When they came up for air he rested his forehead against hers, and she finally voiced something she'd noticed the moment she entered the room.

"You really went crazy with the toothpaste there, Mr. Lupin. You taste minty fresh."

She grinned cheekily at him, and he blushed. He shuffled his feet, and Tonks could swear he looked mildly guilty.

"Yeah, umm… we didn't have the greatest dental hygiene over there. Just wanted to, you know, make up for lost time."

In a decidedly casual tone, he changed the subject.

"What's this about eating my body weight in food? Sounds kinda good right now."

She laughed, and grabbed his hand.

"Molly Weasley has taken the house elves under her charge, and the food is, if possible, even better than usual. I think they'll be more than happy to weigh out the proper amount."

* * *

**A/N:**** Happy New Year! Thanks for all the reviews!**


	32. Chapter 31

Kingsley Shacklebolt ducked just in time to avoid being concussed by a platter full of sausages. Dinnertime at Hogwarts was always an exciting affair, but the atmosphere in the kitchen's side room – which had been commandeered by the volunteers as a makeshift common room – was especially charged tonight. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day to cap the end of an awful month, and there was an air of almost desperate joy as everyone grasped at the first good news they had had in what seemed like an age. The evacuation was as complete as it could be, and Lupin's ragtag band of fighters was out of harm's way.

Moody had recruited Kingsley a few weeks earlier as a mediator among the refugees. The burly Auror's commanding presence and calm voice was badly needed in the labyrinthine dungeons, where it seemed like a fight broke out every hour. He had been hoping – rather foolishly in retrospect – that the return of the infamous Remus Lupin would calm everyone down somewhat. Though he had never met the young werewolf, Kingsley had heard so many stories about him that by now he seemed more like a myth than a man. With so much power and trust in his hands, Remus Lupin could either make things a lot better… or a lot worse. And from what Kingsley had heard of the incident today, Lupin was just as volatile as the other refugees.

So it was with apprehension that Kingsley watched Nymphadora Tonks lead a thin, haggard young man by the hand into the boisterous common room. He looked nothing like what Kingsley had imagined. With graying brown hair, slumped shoulders, and plain features, he was the kind of man who would blend easily into the wallpaper at a party. His skin was weathered and browned by the elements, and three long white scars traced the length of his left cheek. Kingsley watched shrewdly as amber eyes scanned the room, quickly identifying all exits and occupants. Lupin's gaze met Kingsley's for an instant, and a shiver ran down the Auror's spine. The man's eyes were unsettlingly weary – as though he had already seen everything the world had to offer, and found no hope in it.

Everyone else in the room already knew Lupin, and welcomed him enthusiastically. Alex Diamantis leapt to his feet and launched himself across the room at his friend. The tall Greek's long, flowing hair was inexplicably braided into little pigtails, every one of which was tied off with a fuzzy pink bow.

"Moony, you HAVE to try this shepards pie," he said, draping an arm around the smaller man's shoulders and steering him towards the table. "Mrs. Weasley is some sort of culinary genius – "

"What happened to your head?" Lupin interrupted, his voice hoarse and quiet. He was looking up at Alex's hair in bemusement.

"Rosa got her little hands on me," Alex replied, flashing Lupin a grin. "Just wait until she finds _you_. You're going to look fabulous."

Lupin didn't respond to this. He was staring with some trepidation at Molly Weasley, who stood in front of the long table with her hands on her hips. Lupin's steps faltered, and he dropped his gaze. Kingsley looked curiously between the red-haired matriarch and the young werewolf.

"_There_ you are!" Molly said loudly. "Honestly, Remus, you should have come straight here after the Hospital Wing. The others told me that you've all been eating _roots_ and _leaves_ for the past month!"

Lupin had slowly raised his gaze back to meet hers, his eyes wide. At her last words, his lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration. Some of my friends have a penchant for melodrama."

Alex snorted. Molly waved away Lupin's words.

"Well, whatever you were eating, it obviously wasn't enough. I asked Myko and Gwynnedd what your favorite foods were. I hope you like the chocolate biscuits we made, because the house elves accidentally tripled the recipe."

For a moment, Lupin simply gaped at Molly. Finally he blinked, shuffling his feet awkwardly and clearing his throat before stammering, "I - I'm sure they'll be wonderful… _Thank you_, Mrs. Weasley."

Kingsley got the impression that Lupin was thanking Molly for much more than biscuits.

"Call me Molly, dear," she said. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then, with a muttered oath, Molly stepped forward and pulled the young man into a brisk hug. Lupin flinched, clearly too stunned to return the hug before Molly was pulling away. She firmly steered him towards an empty seat right across from Kingsley.

"Good to see you, kid," Moody said gruffly as Lupin sat down, with Tonks and Alex to his left and right. Lupin didn't acknowledge Moody's greeting. He was staring into space, clearly shell-shocked by his interaction with the Weasley matriarch. Tonks loaded a plate with all of her usual grace, and plonked it down in front of him, shoving a fork into his line of sight.

"Eat," she ordered bluntly. Finally shaking free of his stupor, Remus shot her a grateful look. Taking the fork, he glanced across the table at Moody.

"Hey, sorry… yeah, it's um… it's good to be back."

He tore into the food with the intensity of the half starved. Beside him, Tonks began eating at a more leisurely pace, occasionally reaching over to pile more shepards pie onto her boyfriend's plate. The sound of genial chatter and laughter filled the room, and for a while, everything felt almost normal. Kingsley sipped his tea and looked around. Down at the other end of the table, the Weasley twins were trying to convice Ron to test one of their Skiving Snackboxes. Luna, Neville, and Hermione were deep in conversation with Gwynnedd Diamantis, a huge textbook open in front of them. Eleni was describing something to Draco and Ginny, her young face animated as she gestured emphatically with her hands. James and Mykonos were sitting by the fire, tumblers of Firewhiskey already in their hands.

Kingsley finally turned back to find Remus Lupin staring at him. The young man was already looking better, the food bringing some color and vibrancy back to his features. His steady gaze was unreadable, and Kingsley shifted in his seat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hey mate," he said awkwardly. "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt."

He stretched a hand across the table, but Lupin continued to stare at him, unmoving. Out of the corner of his eye, Kingsley saw Tonks's pointy elbow dig into the man's side. He jumped, and quickly grasped the older man's hand.

"Sorry mate, I'm a little slow tonight. Good to meet you. You an Auror?"

"How'd you know?"

Lupin shrugged. "I didn't. You just remind me of someone. He wanted to be an Auror too."

With that enigmatic statement, Lupin returned to his dinner. Tonks shot Kingsley an apologetic glance across the table, but he waved it off. Merlin knows, if bad table manners and social awkwardness were the only aftereffects of this month of hell, then Lupin was doing pretty damn well.

The evening stretched on. Alex, Tonks, Moody, and Bill were debating the finer points of wizarding chess, and Kingsley thought about calling it a night. Lupin – who had been entirely silent for the past half hour – was offering Tonks a biscuit. She took a bite of it, wrapping her hand around his as he held it steady. Kingsley couldn't help but smile at the pure adoration that shone in Lupin's eyes as he watched her. A few biscuit crumbs fell from her lips, and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, trying to contain her mirth. A broad grin spread across Lupin's face, and for a moment, the unsettling weariness behind his eyes vanished.

The young man framed Tonks's face with his hands and leaned forward, carefully kissing every crumb off her lips. A few appreciative whistles sounded from around the room, but Lupin ignored them as he pulled Tonks – chair and all – closer to him, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and buried his face in her hair. Smirking fondly, she reached a hand up to stroke his cheek.

"A bit tired, are we?" she murmured, and he nodded into her mop of pink curls.

"Well, neither Snape or Dumbledore are here. If we call it a night, do you promise to talk to them tomorrow?"

Lupin nodded again, his face still hidden.

"Of course," he mumbled.

The pair sat there for several minutes in peace, letting the world continue around them. Finally, Tonks turned and pressed her lips to Lupin's temple.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

The young man sat up, blinking blearily. As he and Tonks prepared to rise, Kingsley saw Bill Weasley come up behind them, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"Why hello, lovebirds," Bill said, resting a friendly hand on Lupin's shoulder.

It all happened much too fast. One moment, Bill was standing behind Lupin's right shoulder, and the next he was sprawled across the table, his arm bent backwards and his face pressed into the silverware. The young werewolf who pinned him down bore little resemblance to the man who had just been smiling at Tonks. Lupin's teeth were bared in a feral snarl, and his eyes were dead and cold. Cries echoed around the room, and several people jumped to their feet. Charlie dove forward, but Alex intercepted him.

"Don't touch him, you'll only make it worse!"

Lupin was practically wrenching Bill's arm out of its socket with one hand, and grinding his head into the table with the other. The hairs on Kingsley's arms stood on end as he felt a crackling energy fill the room. Lupin was calling on wandless magic in response to the perceived threat, and Kingsley suddenly realized that this unstable man was dangerously powerful in more ways than one.

"STOP, Remus."

Tonks's calm, authoritative voice rang out, and everyone froze. The small young woman stood beside Lupin, boldly grasping the arm that was currently pressing Bill's head further into the tabletop. She was staring up at her boyfriend's unrecognizable face, her mouth set in a determined line.

"This is not you. _This_ _is not you_."

Lupin trembled, and his cold gaze wavered.

"Look at me, Remus."

Amber eyes slowly turned to her, and the young man blinked once, twice. And then Lupin was stumbling backwards, releasing Bill with a horrified cry. The red-haired man slumped to the floor, grimacing in pain and rubbing his practically dislocated shoulder. A fork had cut brutally into his left cheek, sending trails of blood down his pale face.

A horrible silence descended upon the room, broken only by Lupin's ragged breaths. The man gaped down at Bill, terrified eyes following the lines of dark red that so closely mirrored Lupin's own scars. Slowly, he looked down at his hands, shaking like leaves in a gale. A strangled moan escaped his throat, and he grasped his hair with both hands, closing his eyes as his chest heaved desperately.

"_Anapnéo, o gios_."

A deep voice cut through the awful silence. Mykonos was stepping forward, his hands held out to Remus soothingly.

"_Anapnéo, eímaste asfaleís_."

The larger man stepped even closer, but Remus stumbled away, hands still tangled in his hair as he shook his head desperately.

"_Net… net… my nikogda ne v bezopasnosti..._"

The words were harsh and guttural, muttered like an afterthought. A flurry of confused glances traveled around the room. That wasn't Greek.

And then – as though she had purposefully chosen the worst possible moment – the door burst open and Rosa Black pelted into the room.

"RAY!"

The tiny girl was making a beeline for Remus, and Kingsley felt the collective blood pressure of the room skyrocket.

"Rosa, _no!_"

Multiple people cried out at once, but the loudest voice belonged to Remus himself. The young man threw himself out of Rosa's path, tripping over a chair and landing hard on the stone floor. He skittered backwards on all fours until his back hit the wall, and held his hands out to stop the small girl from coming any closer. Rosa halted right in front of him, tilting her head to the side quizzically.

"Ray… why are you scared?"

Sirius had entered right after his daughter, and assessed the situation with one sweep of his gaze. Stooping down, he wrapped an arm around Rosa's middle.

"Come on, honey. I don't think Ray wants to be touched right now."

His voice held an undercurrent of tension, showing that he had a good idea of what Rosa had interrupted. His motions were slightly frantic as he tried to pull his daughter away from the terrified young man, but Rosa would not go quietly.

"No! I want to show him my lines!"

"What?"

"The ones I got in Hogsmeade!"

There was a brief pause, and Sirius's jaw tightened.

"You can show him later, princess. Now's not a good time – "

"But you said – "

"L- lines?"

Lupin's quiet, hoarse voice stammered out the word uncertainly. He was staring at Rosa, eyes wide.

"What lines? W- what are you talking about?"

Squirming free of her father's grip, Rosa rolled up her right sleeve and marched forward, displaying her forearm proudly. There, marring her smooth skin, were three angry white scars – thin lines that stretched nearly from her elbow to her wrist.

"See, I'm like you now!"

Rosa's smile was radiant, but it faltered when she looked up at her hero and saw his expression.

"Remus, it's not what you think."

Sirius's voice sounded from behind Rosa, and the young man scrambled to his feet, quickly backing further down the wall, away from the small girl, who now looked confused and hurt.

"Well then _what the hell is it_, Sirius? What does she mean? Did… did one of those _bastards_ – "

"_No_, Remus! She's fine, she's absolutely _fine_. One of the vampires scratched her in the scuffle, that's all. She has no side effects, nothing."

This was clearly not one of Lupin's best nights. He looked positively ill, breathing slowly through his nose in an effort to control his emotions.

"Daddy said I should be proud of them," Rosa said obstinately. "The lines mean that I was _brave_."

Remus stared down at the little girl, utterly speechless. She raised her chin defiantly.

"I told Daddy that if _three_ lines mean I'm brave, then _you_ must be the bravest person in the whole world, because you've got _lots_."

The young man and the tiny girl stared at each other for a long moment. Then, as though a spell had been broken, Remus turned abruptly and left the room.

"Remus!"

Tonks started to follow him, but Mykonos grabbed her arm.

"Don't. He is not safe, right now, and he knows it. Alex and I will go."

"He would never hurt me."

"He would never _want_ to hurt you. There is a difference."

As Alex and Myko left, Charlie helped Bill into a chair. Worried murmuring started up around the room, and Kingsley watched as Molly dabbed carefully at her son's bleeding face with a handkerchief.

"Dumbledore gets back tomorrow, right?" Kingsley asked, turning to Moody. The older man grimaced and nodded.

"Aye, that he does."

"Lupin can't teach. Not in the state he's in."

Moody shook his head grudgingly.

"It'd be bloody irresponsible to put him out there. I'll have a word with Albus. See about finding a substitute. Just for a while, mind you, 'til the lad gets some help, and stops _attacking_ people. He's a bloody good teacher, and a damned decent bloke. I hate to see him like this."

Kingsley glanced across the table at Tonks, who was sitting quietly beside Bill with her arms wrapped firmly around herself, valiantly trying not to look like she was about to cry.

"Something tells me you're not the only one, Mad-Eye."

* * *

_Anapnéo, o gios_ – breathe, son (Greek)

_eímaste asfaleís _– we are safe (Greek)

_Net, my nikogda ne v bezopasnosti._– no, we are never safe (Russian)

A/N: Thank you all SO, SO much for the lovely reviews, they mean a lot to me :) Always great to hear that you guys are enjoying it! Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. Hope you're all doing well!

And thanks to ganastas for help with the Russian!


	33. Chapter 32

_The boy's eyes were far older than the rest of him. Strange, that this was what Sirius noticed as he struggled to remain conscious. He felt like he should know this boy, this small, wild-looking creature crouching wearily above him. He felt like he owed this boy everything._

_Moonlight washed over the scene, illuminating the blood and gore that covered the boy from head to toe. His hand stretched towards Sirius's temple, and his mouth formed a single word._

_"Reg…"_

_But it wasn't the voice of a child that echoed in Sirius's ears. And as he looked deeper into the boy's eyes, Sirius suddenly realized…_

_They were amber._

Sirius jerked awake with an anguished shout. Beside him, Marlene nearly fell out of bed.

"Bloody hell, Sirius!"

Her anger at being so rudely awoken died abruptly when she saw the look on her husband's face. Sirius was as white as a ghost. His eyes were wide with shock, and his chest heaved in frightened, desperate breaths.

"Babe, what…?"

"I need to see Dumbledore."

Sirius pulled away from her concerned hands, struggling free from the tangle of blankets on their bed. Marlene gaped at him as he practically ran to the closet.

"Now?" she asked, incredulous. "Sirius, it's two in the morning!"

But Sirius wasn't listening. He was muttering to himself, his hands shaking as he frantically pulled out a robe.

"… all this time… I'm such an idiot…"

Frustrated by her husband's late-night incoherency, Marlene stood up and strode over to him, putting her hands on her hips.

"What in the name of Merlin is going _on_?"

But Sirius was pulling on shoes – not even bothering to find socks – and yanking the robe over his pyjamas.

"Not _now_, babe!" he said, and the urgency in his voice truly scared Marlene. "I'll – I'll tell you when I come back. Right now…"

He didn't even wait to finish his sentence before he was out the door, tearing down the darkened stairs of Grimmauld Place. Behind him, Marlene pressed her hand to her mouth. What on earth was going on?

* * *

Albus Dumbledore couldn't remember the last time he had been this exhausted. For the past month, he and his colleagues had worked tirelessly to sway the tide of politics at the Ministry in favor of the Dark Creatures who were being so mercilessly hunted down. Their efforts had not been entirely in vain. A fair number of Ministry employees, and a select few members of the Wizengamot were beginning to see the light. Albus didn't think it was coincidence that most of these people happened to have school-age children. The ripple effects of Remus's year at Hogwarts were beginning to show.

_I always knew it was too much to hope for a second year,_ Albus mused as he sat back in his chair, eyes fixed upon the crumpled form of an unconscious Remus Lupin. The young man had arrived in Dumbledore's office at nearly two in the morning, trembling and incoherent. It had been raining all night, and from the state of the man's clothing, it looked as though he had become well-acquainted with every mud puddle in the Forbidden Forest.

Thanks to a message from Moody, Albus was quite aware of what had happened that day. While Remus desperately tried to stammer out an explanation for his appearance, the older wizard discreetly spiked a cup of tea with some of Poppy's strongest Sleeping Draught. The cup barely touched the exhausted man's lips before he was out cold on the couch.

Now, Albus silently examined the young werewolf. Even in drugged sleep, his haggard face was creased with anxious lines. His breathing was irregular, his hands twitched, and Albus had no doubt that – Sleeping Draught or no – anyone who touched Remus right now would live to regret it. If they were lucky.

Albus sighed deeply, and finally allowed his forehead to drop into his hands. How had it come to this? How had everything come to rely on this one young man?

For the past six years, Remus had been on his own personal crusade. Albus and the Order members had tried to help, but only now were they finally realizing exactly what was at stake. Exactly what they all stood to lose if the existing powers in the Ministry had their way. The extermination of Dark Creatures would only be the beginning. There would be no end to the hatred and fear; it would spread like a cancer – just like it had when Voldemort was at the height of his power.

Now, the only thing that held that potential future at bay was what Remus had managed to accomplish – the compassion and tolerance he had taught to his students, to his peers, to his elders. His optimism was what held the Dark Creatures together; his love was the reason why so many humans were working to keep them safe. His desperate pleas for peace echoed in the minds and hearts of every person in the castle, and many people outside of it.

But Albus knew that – at long last – Remus Lupin had nothing left to give. He was drained – mentally, physically, emotionally… If there was one thing that Albus had learned in his long years, it was that the worst things quite often happened to the best people. Remus was a case study on the phenomenon.

Sighing again, Albus slowly stood. Ignoring the creaking in his old bones, he walked quietly to the couch, and reached his hand out towards the young man's temple, careful not to actually touch him. The Sleeping Draught didn't seem to be working that well, and with a gentle prod at Remus' mind, Albus sent him into a deeper slumber.

Even with that brief foray into the young man's mind, Albus could feel the weight of haunting memories pushing at the fringes of his own soul. He pulled free, but not before an image broke through, sending an icy chill slithering down his back.

_A young boy knelt in the middle of a dungeon cell, a knife grasped in his hand. The knife shone red with blood, and around him lay a scene of gore – too many bodies for Albus to count, for he was staring at the boy, who was staring down at his hands. Steady, like the hands of a surgeon._

Albus stumbled backwards with a gasp. Remus now lay in peaceful slumber, but the old wizard was shaken to the core.

_What was that?_

Albus practically shouted in alarm when someone started pounding furiously on his office door for the second time that night.

"Albus!"

It was Sirius. Would this damned night never end?

"Albus, I need to talk to you! _Now_!"

Running a not-quite-steady hand down his tired face, Albus stepped to the door, schooling his features carefully before opening it.

"Mr. Black. What brings you to my office at this hour?"

Sirius wasted no time on preamble, pushing forward into the room.

"Look, you know that dream that I – "

He stopped abruptly, his eyes riveted to the young man on the couch.

"Let me guess," Albus said dryly. "This has something to do with young Mr. Lupin."

Sirius's silence was answer enough.

"Don't worry, he's quite out of it," Albus said, guiding Sirius towards his desk where the teapot still sat, steaming. "I gave him a Sleeping Draught, _and_ a little push with Legilimency. He can't hear us."

Sirius looked rather unconvinced, and fidgeted quietly in front of Albus's desk like a nervous schoolboy, while the Headmaster poured two cups of unspiked Earl Grey.

"Sit down, Sirius, before you fall down. You do realize that your robe is inside out?"

The younger man looked down at his haphazard apparel, brows knitting together absently.

"Oh… yes…"

He sat down abruptly, taking a deep gulp of the now lukewarm tea.

"You had something to tell me," Albus prompted patiently. Sirius shifted in his seat, took one last look at the catatonic young man on the couch, and finally blurted out –

"The twenty-first of October, 1985. You – you know what happened that night. Well, you know as well as any of us do. Voldemort was destroyed, and I… well, I'm the only one who remembers _anything_."

Albus remained silent, staring at Sirius over the rim of his cup. The younger man took an agitated gulp of tea before continuing.

"I watched… I watched a boy being killed that night. At least – that's what I always thought. Greyback threw him across the clearing, and…"

Sirius turned his head slowly, and Albus followed his gaze to once again look at the sleeping werewolf. Finally, Sirius turned back.

"Albus… I think I know how Remus lost his memories."

There was a long, tense silence. Then Dumbledore set down his teacup crisply.

"Sirius… are you suggesting what I think you are?"

The younger man nodded shortly.

"Sir, I… I know it sounds ludicrous, but I'm almost _certain_… That boy didn't die. He grew up, and he's lying _right there_."

Sirius pointed emphatically at Remus, his chest heaving. It looked like he was struggling not to cry, and Albus was vividly reminded that it had been a very hard month for all concerned, not just Remus.

He sat back in his chair, observing Sirius for a long moment before turning his gaze to Remus, then back again. Finally, he leaned forward.

"Sirius… what you're saying… it makes a _disturbing_ amount of sense. But I have to ask – how can you tell? If Remus _is_ that boy, then why are you only recognizing him now?"

Sirius shifted in his seat again, looking uncomfortable.

"Sirius?" Dumbledore prompted. The younger man looked away, clearing his throat before mumbling –

"He called me _Reg_."

"What?"

"In the Hospital Wing. I said Voldemort's name and he had a flashback. He thought I was _Regulus_."

Albus gaped at him, uncharacteristically speechless. Sirius continued.

"Then, down in the kitchens… He just looked so fucking _scared_, when Rosa went near him. Something about his eyes was so _familiar_."

Sirius looked up at Albus, his eyes conflicted.

"I feel as though… I dunno, like I always sort of knew. In the back of my mind. But it took those last couple pieces to make me see the whole picture."

He put down his now cold tea, and rubbed his face with both hands.

"Albus… what do we _do_? That boy – Remus… I think he _saved _us, he saved our lives! We probably owe him _everything_, and I can't just sit back and watch him fall apart like this, I _can't_."

He looked up at Dumbledore, clearly desperate for advice, but the old wizard was lost in thought. The disturbing image from only minutes before was still seared into his mind, and he frowned, unable to shake the sight of the boy – deadly calm and covered from head to toe in blood.

"Sirius… how do you know that the boy was there to help you?"

The younger man's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Albus met his gaze head on.

"How do you know that the boy was _on our side_?"

Sirius gaped at the older man.

"Albus… sir, he couldn't have been more than _twelve_. What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting," Dumbledore said wearily, "that a child with lycanthropy _and_ Remus's magical capabilities would have been a powerful weapon for the Death Eaters. An easily manipulated soldier. You know that Severus suspects Remus was a natural Legilimens before his injury?"

Sirius's shocked silence was all the answer that Albus needed. The old wizard rubbed at his temple, feeling a headache coming on.

"If what you suspect is true… if Remus was involved with Voldemort and the Death Eaters when he was a child…"

Albus paused, looking over at the young man's deceptively peaceful face. Why was it _always_ Remus? What cruel god had decided to pile all these burdens on the same man?

"We need to be very careful," he finished. "We could be dealing with someone much more dangerous – much more _volatile_ – than even the worst of the Death Eaters."

Sirius looked utterly stunned.

"But… but this is _Remus_ we're talking about. He's a _good kid_."

"You know as well as I do, Sirius, that Voldemort was an expert at turning good people into monsters."

The younger man's face darkened, and he clenched his fists. Tense silence filled the room for a full minute before Albus sighed, standing up wearily.

"Look," he said, reaching out and gripping Sirius's shoulder. "Go home. Get some rest. We'll have an Order meeting tomorrow, and we'll all discuss it. I care about Remus just as much as you do – and no matter whose side he was on during the War, he was still a child. He needs our help, and we're going to figure out how to give it to him, alright?"

Sirius hesitated, then finally nodded slowly. He stood, fighting to conceal an exhausted yawn.

"You'll look after him tonight?" he said, gesturing to the young man on the couch. Albus nodded.

"He's safe here, don't worry."

Nodding again, Sirius turned and plodded out the door, shoulders slumped. Taking one last look over his shoulder at Remus, he closed the door quietly. Albus listened to his footsteps echoing down the spiral staircase.

The old wizard turned to look at the sleeping young man.

"Well… at least you're never boring, young Mr. Lupin."

Rubbing the source of his growing migraine, Albus conjured a blanket and flicked his wand to settle it over the young man. Turning, he flicked his wand again to turn off the lights.

"Sleep well, Remus. You're going to need it."

He quickly cast a few protective wards on the office door, and retreated to his bedroom. After a moment of hesitation, he cast the same wards on his bedroom door. Feeling uneasy – and feeling equally guilty for his uneasiness – Albus drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Outside in the dark office, a pair of amber eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

* * *

**A/N: ****Thank you all soooo much for the lovely reviews, I really appreciate it. It makes me happy to know that you're all enjoying this story :)**

**IrishCailin16 mentioned that a series of one-shots might be great, and I'm definitely considering the idea. There are so many sections of this AU that could be fleshed out... I've definitely thought about doing a prequel to this. Any thoughts? If you're feeling inspired, feel free to write your own companion pieces! That'd be pretty cool, actually :D**


	34. Chapter 33

_"Do it, boy. Do it."_

_ Cold steel numbed Kirill's trembling hand. The gun was too heavy for him, a man's weapon. The muscles in his scrawny shoulder screamed in protest as he held the gun outstretched for ten seconds, twenty – _

_ "For FUCK'S sake, runt. DO IT. Get it over with, it's fucking cold out here."_

_ Kirill was seven years old and terrified. He didn't know the young man kneeling in front of him, but even a cursory glance at his mind showed that he was terrified as well. He had a wife, and two small children, but they were already dead. Greyback's pack wasted no time, and took no prisoners._

_Blue eyes locked with amber, and Kirill let out a hiccupping sob. His shoulder gave out, and the gun dropped into the snow. _

_He didn't even try to dodge Greyback's fist. The blow knocked him to the ground and he stayed there, trembling. Not for the first time, he prayed for death._

_Instead, a clawed hand grabbed him by the hair, hauling him back to his feet. He cried out in the only language he knew, well aware that it wouldn't help._

_"Ya uzhe govoril vam vse, chto on znaet! Pozhaluysta…" (I already told you what he knows! Please…_)

_"Shut up, you little piece of Russian shit!"_

_Greyback shook him like a ragdoll, and Kirill felt his teeth rattle in his skull. _

_"You run with my pack, you play by my rules, boy," Greyback hissed, his breath hot and rancid against Kirill's face. "Got it?"_

_Kirill swallowed, his eyes darting from side to side as he searched for some way – ANY way – to escape. Greyback grabbed his chin with bruising force._

_"You want me to tell the Dark Lord how uncooperative you've been? Hmm? You want me to pay your little bitch of a mother a visit in Auchenstein?"_

_Something ran cold in Kirill's veins. His icy gaze fixed on Greyback, and for a split second, he saw a hint of apprehension in the man's eyes. They could do whatever they wanted to him, but they would NEVER hurt his mother._

_Kirill threw his mind recklessly, desperately, at the man in front of him. He had no idea what he was doing. All he knew was that he wanted to be free of this man, free of this nightmare. He wanted his mother, he wanted his old life back, he didn't care if he had to plant potatoes for the rest of his life if it meant seeing the farm and his father again…_

_ He crashed against Greyback's mental shields with a force that sent tremors through them both. The man's golden eyes widened, and Kirill pressed forward, willing Greyback to put him down, to let him go – but then the feral was pinning him to the ground, and Kirill's heart sank._

_ "You little BASTARD! Think you can manipulate ME, think you can pull that little mind trick on ME?"_

_ Kirill curled into a ball, covering his head in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows Greyback was raining down upon him. And as one horrible second melted into another, Kirill's anger grew into an all-consuming flame._

_ He would not die a coward._

_ With an inhuman cry, he lashed out with his foot, catching Greyback a glancing blow on the temple. The huge man stumbled, and Kirill scrambled across the bloodstained snow towards the gun. Gasping frantically for breath, he snatched it up, gripping it tightly in both hands as he turned._

_Half blinded by tears and rage, he fired. _

_The force of the blast knocked him backwards, and he sprawled in the cold snow, gun knocked from his hand. The shot echoed through the dark Romanian woods, and for a moment, silence reigned over the scene._

_Kirill lay on his back, wide eyes staring up at the stars as he fought for breath. Those small bright lights had always comforted him in the past. They seemed so peaceful, so removed from the world. He envied them._

_Slowly, painfully, Kirill sat up. He didn't want to see what he had done. He didn't want to see Greyback lying, still and bloodied like all the others – only this time at Kirill's own hand. He fought off a wave of nausea. He didn't have time to be sick, the rest of the pack was only a minute away, he needed to run, he needed to get to his mother before the Dark One found out…_

_"Well, what do you know? You can shoot after all."_

_The bottom dropped out of Kirill's stomach. He swallowed, and slowly lifted his head._

_Greyback stood in front of him, hulking and unpleasant as ever. In front of him – held like a shield – was the limp body of the young man. Kirill's wild, desperate shot had caught him right in the heart. _

_Greyback was positively grinning. The points of his carefully filed teeth glinted in the moonlight. He tossed the young man's corpse aside, and Kirill watched numbly as the shell of a human being folded to the ground._

_"Your first kill, runt. Congratulations."_

_Kirill's vision clouded and wavered. The dark forest faded, and he felt something – some_one_ – in his head, pulling him deeper into… was he asleep? Was this all a dream? Oh please, let this be a dream._

_The presence in his mind felt safe and warm. Kindness like he hadn't felt since they took his mother away now echoed in the emptiness she left behind. Kirill sank deeper into sleep… but his dreams followed him. As images flashed through his mind – faster and more vivid than before – the kind presence shrank back and vanished, leaving him to face his demons alone._

_Villages burned before his eyes, bodies strewn upon the ground haphazardly. Agonized screams and cruel laughter blended together in a horrifying cacophony, and all the while the gun felt more and more familiar in his hand. _

_ He was reading an old woman's mind – right before putting a bullet through her skull. He was crouching outside a town with the rest of the pack, waiting for moonrise. He was on his knees in a dungeon cell, the metallic stench of blood almost as strong as the taste of it in his mouth as he stared down at the knife in his hand. He was sprinting through the trees, running until he thought his heart would burst, and then he was fighting – kicking and biting and desperately clawing at the ones who were responsible. The ones who had turned him into this… this – _

_ "Kirill, WAKE UP!"_

Remus Lupin woke without a sound, a voice from the grave echoing through his mind. Weeks of guerilla warfare had drilled home the importance of remaining silent, no matter what nightmares plagued his sleep. The scent of tea and lemon drops placed him in Dumbledore's office, and the sound of two other heartbeats meant that he was not alone.

"But… but this is _Remus_ we're talking about. He's a _good kid_."

"You know as well as I do, Sirius, that Voldemort was an expert at turning good people into monsters."

_Monster_.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore rose with the sun. For a few brief moments, it felt like every other day that dawned at Hogwarts. Muted light shone across his bed, the smell of late summer air wafted through the open window, and Albus smiled up at the ceiling in anticipation of the start of a new school year.

Then he remembered the young man on the other side of his bedroom door. His smile dimmed, and Albus rose swiftly and pulled on a dressing robe. With any luck, Remus would still be asleep. Albus needed some time to figure out how to approach this whole mess. Cautiously, he peeked around the edge of the door… and his blood froze.

The office was empty. The window was wide open, and the curtains fluttered in the breeze with a solemn finality. Rushing to his desk, Albus pulled out a tattered copy of the Marauder's Map – a gift from James and Sirius upon their graduation. As he scanned the document frantically, Albus's heart sank. He should have seen this coming. He should have done _something_. But it was too late.

Remus was gone.

_End of Part 1_

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you sooo much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! It really means the world to me, I'm so glad you all are enjoying this AU. Sorry it sometimes takes me a while to update, life gets in the way a bit too much. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, get ready for even more of a roller coaster :)**

**Thanks to ganastas for Russian translation!**


	35. Part 2 - Chapter 34

_Regulus knew that something was very wrong. Well, other than the obvious 'evil wizard taking over the world' thing, that is. _

_ He and Kirill had made some progress these past few years. Four Horcruxes found and destroyed, several Dark Creature wars sabotaged, countless innocent people transported to safety… and still they evaded detection. Regulus would pat himself on the back, but he knew that none of it would have been possible without a certain sandy-haired boy._

_ The same boy who now stood in front of him, watery trails running down his cheeks._

_ Kirill was thirteen now, but he looked ten. Years of malnutrition, terror and abuse had stunted his growth, turning him into a scrawny, hunched little creature. His pale face was bruised and lined with fatigue, and his hazel eyes were – as always – much older than the rest of him._

_ Tonight, they were filled with tears. Regulus felt his veins run cold. In the five years he had known Kirill, he had never seen the boy cry. _

_ "What is it, mate? What's wrong?"_

_ They hadn't been able to meet in over six months. Voldemort's war with the wizarding world was not going well – in large part due to the spies within his ranks – and consequently it was getting harder and harder for the two boys to communicate without raising suspicion. Kirill had managed to send Regulus the occasional telepathic message, but without eye contact it was a one-way communication. And even that was becoming risky as the Dark Lord became more and more paranoid. _

_ Regulus tried not to think about all the horrible things he had been forced to do these past six months in order to maintain his cover. No matter how many people he saved, it would never make up for the ones he killed._

_ As bad as he had it, Regulus was well aware that Kirill had it far worse. Running with Greyback's pack allowed him to gather – and spread – vital information for the war effort. But it took a brutal toll on the boy. Every time the two spies met, Kirill's eyes were a little harder, his reflexes a little sharper, his words a little harsher._

_ Tonight, Greyback's pack had finally camped close to Voldemort's Romanian stronghold. Regulus hadn't received a message from Kirill in months, and he couldn't stand it any longer. Cold dread settled in his stomach as he crept from the castle in the dead of night. This was a bad idea._

_They found each other quickly. They both knew they were horribly exposed here, in the small strip of forest between the werewolves and the Death Eaters. They had mere moments to talk… and yet Kirill just stood there, silent tears streaming down his face._

_"Kirill, please, tell me what's wrong!"_

_Regulus's voice cracked with desperation, and he abruptly fell to his knees in front of the boy, reaching for him. But Kirill darted back, a choked sob escaping his throat. He was shaking his head._

_"Make it stop, Regulus," he finally whispered. "Please. Just make it stop."_

_Regulus swallowed thickly._

_"I can't, mate. I'm sorry. But you know I can't."_

_Kirill was still shaking his head._

_"You- you always say we're the _good _ones, but – but I don't even know what that means anymore!" he choked out. "All I do is hurt people, all I do is _kill_…"_

_"That's not true. That's _not true_, Kirill," Regulus said, his voice shaking. "We're- we're making progress, we're _helping people_ – "_

_"No, we're not!" the boy cried, and Regulus gestured frantically for quiet. They couldn't afford to be heard. Kirill wiped at his mouth, gasping for breath._

_"We ARE helping, Kirill," Regulus hissed. "I understand how you feel, believe me. But we HAVE to maintain our cover. We have to find the last Horcrux – "_

_"You keep saying it's the last one," Kirill said, his voice now soft and angry. His eyes burned with a feral gleam._

_"You keep saying that, and it's never true. He never dies, he's never GOING to die – "_

_"So what, you want to just GIVE UP?" Regulus hissed, reaching once again to grasp the boy's shoulders. Kirill evaded him. "Throw in the towel, join his side, let him _kill_ everyone we love?"_

_"He's ALREADY killed everyone I love!" the boy cried. "What does it matter anymore?"_

_Regulus clenched his fists desperately. He had always known that there might come a day when this ragged little boy broke. He had been naïve to hope that Kirill's strength was infinite._

_"I'm tired, Reg," the sandy-haired boy sobbed. "I'm so tired…"_

_The young man caught Kirill as he finally folded to the ground, his small body shaking. Regulus gathered him up in his arms, rocking him back and forth as tears of his own began to fall._

_"I'm sorry," he whispered into the boy's hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"_

_He felt a small hand grasp his sleeve. Kirill huddled into him, shuddering with every breath. He whispered something, and Regulus ducked his head._

_"What did you say?"_

_"Kill me."_

_Regulus froze. He pulled back, staring at the boy in his arms with growing horror._

_"Please," Kirill choked out. "Please, I just want it to stop."_

_After a long, horrible moment, Regulus finally remembered how to breathe. _

_"No. No, don't you even think about it. That is NOT an option!"_

_He grabbed the boy by the arms and hauled him to his knees, shaking him. Kirill simply stared at him, eyes blank. _

_"We're going to get through this, you and me, mate. Okay?" Regulus whispered, brushing Kirill's unruly hair out of his eyes. "We're going to take that bastard down, and then I'm going to bring you _home_. You hear me? You're going to be _safe_, you're going to be _happy_. You'll go to Hogwarts, and you'll play Quidditch and flirt with girls and eat as much food as you possibly can."_

_Regulus choked back tears as he took Kirill's face in both hands, desperately willing him to hope._

_"You're going to LIVE, little brother. It doesn't end here. Not like this. You may think he's killed everyone who loves you, but he hasn't. I'm still here. I'm STILL HERE."_

_"Well well. How very touching."_

_The cold voice turned the blood in Regulus's veins to ice. No no no no NO NO NO, after all this time, how could they have been so STUPID…_

_Kirill's eyes were wide and terrified. His nostrils flared, and Regulus knew before he turned around what he would see._

_Lord Voldemort melted out of the darkness. Behind him trailed his newest sycophant – a mousy-haired teenager who had taken the Dark Mark a few weeks ago. A sniveling weasel of a man, Regulus had hated him on sight. _

_"See?" the teenager said smugly, pointing at the horrified pair. "I told you it was him."_

_"Very good, Tom," the Dark Lord said slowly. "Very good indeed."_

_Regulus stood. He would not die on his knees. A cruel little smile played across Voldemort's snake-like face as he stared down at them._

_"Regulus Black," he finally hissed. "So you're the spy."_

_His eyes drifted to Kirill, and Regulus glanced down to find that the boy was also on his feet, wide eyes fixed on the Dark Lord._

_"And my little werewolf mind reader. Hm. What a pity. You showed such promise."_

_Slowly, almost lazily, Voldemort raised his wand._

_"Don't hurt the boy."_

_The sound of his own voice shocked Regulus. He moved instinctively, his body numb with fear as he pulled Kirill behind him._

_"Please. It- it was my idea. Kirill had nothing to do with it, just- just let him go."_

_Voldemort's face slowly split into a horrifying grin. He threw his head back and laughed._

_"He's just a child!" Regulus cried out. "Please, k-kill me instead!"_

_He was sobbing now, thoughts of home racing through his head. Of London, and Hogwarts, and all the places he would never see again. All the_ _people… _God, Sirius_, he thought. _He'll never know what happened to me, he won't understand…

_Voldemort was still chuckling, and he waved his wand slowly back and forth. _

_"Oh, I _will_ kill you, Black," he hissed. "And when this war is over, I will take great pleasure in torturing your entire family. But as for the boy…"_

_Voldemort glanced down at Kirill. He was pressed to Regulus's back, his small body trembling._

_"Well…" Voldemort hissed, smiling. "I'm not quite _done_ with him, yet."_

_The Dark Lord straightened his wand arm._

_"Say goodbye, traitor."_

_There was no fighting back. There was no running. Against a wizard this powerful, any resistance was pointless. It was over. The only thing Regulus could do was keep his body between that monster and Kirill. He grasped the fabric of the boy's tattered shirt, holding him tightly behind him. _

_And Regulus Black closed his eyes. _

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_An eruption of green light, and a broken scream split the night. Regulus felt his body fall to the side, and he hit the ground with a painful thud… what? _

_"Regulus, RUN!"_

_Kirill had thrown them clear of the curse. Before Regulus could do anything, the boy launched himself bodily at Voldemort, latching onto the wizard's wand arm like a feral animal. It was an act of sheer desperation, of utter insanity, of pure courage. And somehow, against all the odds, it worked._

_With surprise as his ally, Kirill pulled the Dark Lord's wand from his hand. With a cry of rage, he leapt forward and drove it straight into the man's eye socket. Regulus spared a split second to wonder if this was the first time anyone had dared to physically attack Lord Voldemort. _

_The dark wizard's furious screams echoed through the trees. If the others hadn't heard them already, they definitely would now. _

_"RUN!"_

_Kirill's voice broke as he screamed at Regulus. The young man stumbled to his feet, gaping as Kirill clung to Voldemort like a sea urchin, his scrawny arms wrapped around the man's windpipe. Blood flowed freely down the Dark Lord's face from his wounded eye, but Regulus knew they had mere seconds before Voldemort regained control. Already, the air was crackling with a menacing energy…_

_"They don't want you, Reg, they want me – GO! Finish this!" Kirill cried, kicking Tom in the face as the mousy-haired bastard lurched towards the struggling pair. Shouts and crashes echoed through the trees as the Dark Lord's servants descended upon them. _

_ There was no time. No time to tell this crazy, stupid, BRAVE little werewolf everything he deserved to hear. No time to apologize, no time to argue. A thirteen-year old boy was fighting a battle he knew he couldn't win – just to buy the wizarding world a tiny sliver of hope. _

_Almost blinded by tears, Regulus Black turned and sprinted into the darkness._

* * *

**A/N: Phew, that was quite a chapter. Went through about four different iterations, still not quite sure if I got it right. But there you are. Thank you all so much for the reviews! It makes me very happy to know that you're enjoying this :) **


	36. Chapter 35

_My last Opening Feast. Thank Salazar._

Clara Belfry was not famous for her sunny personality. A born Slytherin who was – six years later – still royally pissed off with that stupid hat for putting her in Ravenclaw, she was known as "problematic" by some, "difficult" by others, and "a psychotic bitch" by the rest. Short, spiked hair and unforgiving grey eyes only added to her unapproachable appearance. She had very few friends, and those she did have usually steered clear of her.

As she stalked into the Great Hall, arms crossed defiantly across her chest, she spared a moment to note that the place looked a bit more disheveled than usual. Tapestries that were usually spotless and symmetrical were dusty, and slightly off kilter. Some of the silverware looked distinctly unburnished, and the candles and streamers floated haphazardly above the tables, as though the spells holding them aloft had been done in haste.

_House elves on strike?_ Clara mused darkly. _Wonderful._

As she made her way to the Ravenclaw table, Clara could feel several sets of eyes burning holes into her. She held her head higher.

_Let them stare_, she thought furiously. _They don't understand. How could they? Weak, ignorant bastards_.

She hadn't been able to find her friends on the train – not that she'd really been looking, of course. But now she spotted them near the end of the table. Merrick was a swarthy little bloke from Wales who kept a not-so-secret collection of porn under his bed. Maggie was a plump, naïve blond girl from Cork who had a disgustingly overwrought crush on that Diggory prick.

Clara liked to know peoples' weaknesses. Just in case she ever needed leverage.

Merrick and Maggie were deep in conversation when Clara thumped down on the bench opposite them, grabbing a dinner roll unceremoniously.

"Hey assholes," she said between chews. They looked up at her in alarm.

"H- hey, Clara," Maggie said nervously, staring at her with wide eyes. The blood drained from Merrick's face. Clara raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?"

Merrick was clearly trying to avoid eye contact.

"Nothing, it's… it's nothing," he stammered. "M- Maggie, didn't you, um, want to ask Penny a question?"

Maggie turned to him, face blank. He grimaced.

"We should, um, probably go down there and talk to her, yeah?"

He was starting to get to his feet, plucking at Maggie's sleeve. Realization dawned on the blond girl's face, and Maggie nodded.

"Oh, you're right!" she said. "Sorry Clara, we've… erm… we've got to go talk to Penny…"

"This is about my father. Isn't it?"

Clara's blunt, cold voice cut through the excuses. Both Merrick and Maggie stopped in their tracks, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other as they stared down at her in trepidation. Several other Ravenclaws sitting near them had fallen silent, and now watched the altercation with tense curiosity.

Clara Belfry glared up at her friends with the icy grey eyes she had inherited from her father. When she spoke, her voice was deadly calm.

"This is about that ludicrous _pamphlet_ everyone's been reading."

"It's not ludicrous!" Maggie said, her bravery surprising even herself. She pulled a well-worn piece of paper out of her pocket, and slammed it down on the table. Clara did not look at it. She didn't need to. It was already burned into every corner of her mind.

"Your dad's a _murderer_," Merrick said, his hand shaking as he pointed at the pamphlet – that horrible pamphlet that had fallen on Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley two weeks ago, stomping what was left of Clara's life even further into the mud.

"He killed a werewolf," she said coldly. "That's his job."

"He's killed _dozens of people_!" Merrick cried. "Did you even _read_ this? They – they somehow got his work records, and he… he's a bloody _serial killer_!"

Clara slammed her open palms down on the table.

"My father does what he has to do to keep all you pussies _safe_," she hissed. "That werewolf he killed in July was trying to _kidnap_ some _kids_, in case you've forgotten about that!"

It looked like several of the onlookers were about to join the argument when Dumbledore suddenly rose to his feet, and a hush fell across the Hall. Shooting each other desperate looks, Merrick and Maggie were finally forced to return to their seats across from Clara, avoiding her infuriated gaze.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" the old wizard said, holding out his arms to everyone. "It seems like only yesterday I said those words last, and yet here we are – another year older and, with any luck, another year _wiser_."

Still fuming, Clara finally managed to turn away from her treacherous sort-of-friends. As she looked at the staff table for the first time, she instantly noticed that something was very wrong.

"We have had to say goodbye to a few faces," Dumbledore continued. "Last year's graduating class will be sorely missed."

A steady rustle of whispers across the Hall indicated that Clara was not the only one unsettled by what she was seeing – or rather, _not_ seeing.

"But we are also welcoming some new faces as well," Dumbledore said, his voice raising slightly to be heard over the sounds of dismay that were now echoing through the room. He gestured down the staff table towards a distinctly odd-looking bloke.

"I'd like to introduce your new Defence Against The Dark Arts professor – Alastor Moody."

The pit dropped out of Clara's stomach.

_Come on bitch, keep it together_, she told herself harshly. But keeping it together was getting difficult as all around her, other students began to cry.

The reality of the Bulgarian Wars was hitting home.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" someone called out, swiftly followed by other anxious voices.

"Where is he?"

"Is he alright?"

"Did those bastards kill him?!"

Dumbledore was holding his hands up for quiet, his normally twinkling blue eyes impossibly weary.

"Please, everyone calm down – Professor Lupin is _fine_ – "

It was a horrendous lie, and everyone knew it. Many members of the staff looked supremely uncomfortable. Madam Pomfrey was practically on the verge of tears.

"Just tell us the _truth_!"

Cedric Diggory – with all his usual vigour and lack of sublety – demanded answers with an emphatic pounding of his fist on the table. The Hall fell into anticipatory silence as the old wizard closed his eyes, gathering himself. It was the first time Clara had seen the great Albus Dumbledore falter.

Finally, he opened his eyes and drew himself up, his eyes resigned.

"As you may recall, Professor Lupin is from Bulgaria," he said slowly. "I'm sure you can understand that the past month has been… difficult… for him. He is taking some time off from teaching, but I _assure _you – he will be back."

Nobody was satisfied with that non-answer, but Dumbledore plowed right on with the rest of his opening speech, ignoring the worried tension that remained in the Hall. Dumbledore had started talking about the Tri Wizard Tournament, but Clara found it difficult to concentrate as she stared fixedly at the strange, unhappy-looking bloke who was sitting where Professor Lupin should be.

In all honesty, Lupin was part of the reason her life sucked so much right now. She knew what he was – had known since November of last year, when he finally forgot to avoid eye contact with her right before the full moon.

* * *

_He obviously knew who she was – who her _father_ was. Grey eyes met gold, and a tremor of terror ran through Clara's body as her mind screamed WEREWOLF. She froze, her gaze locked with his. The ruler he had been casually twirling through his fingers snapped in half under the force of his clenched fist._

_ It took Clara a moment to realize that her terror was reflected in those golden eyes._

_Surrounded by a classroom full of sixth-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins, the werewolf and the werewolf hunter's daughter simply stared at each other. Then Lupin jerked his gaze away and continued to teach, his every movement measured and calculated to conceal the all-consuming _fear_ that Clara could sense rolling off him in waves._

_She sat there, fist clenched on her quill as her brain raced, planning out her next move – send an owl to her father? Scream and run away? Try and kill him herself? Her hand twitched towards her bag, towards the pepper spray her father always made her carry – laced with silver, just like what the WCU used._

_A combination of shock and fear kept Clara rooted to her chair, and she watched numbly as the werewolf paced across the front of the classroom, hands animating his lesson on… what was it? Shield spells?_

_An image leapt, unbidden, to the front of her mind. Her father was advancing on an unarmed Professor Lupin, pistol aimed at the young man's head. A single shot echoed in her imagination, and she jumped, gasping audibly. Several of her classmates gave her odd looks, and Lupin stuttered, losing his train of thought completely. _

_Clara watched in mute fascination as he struggled to regain his composure. He suddenly looked horribly ill, his already pale face turning a mild shade of green. _

_"Professor, are you alright?" Maggie asked, voice thick with concern. Lupin gave them all a weak smile._

_"Fine, fine…" he muttered, waving away the worried looks. "Just – just feeling a little under the weather, that's all… Ehm, why don't you all go to lunch a little early? We'll finish this lesson on Thursday."_

_His students slowly gathered up their things, filing out the door with a few concerned glances back at their teacher. Clara lingered, sinking her hand into her bag to get a firm grip on the small can of silver spray._

_Finally, they were alone. Professor Lupin stood with his back to her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Clara stood up, but he didn't turn around. She studied the tense lines of his back, and finally opened her mouth. What she planned on saying, she didn't know._

_"You've always been really nice to me."_

_Well, that wasn't what either one of them had expected. She furrowed her brow, wondering what the hell her mouth was playing at. Meanwhile, Lupin let out an almost hysterical bark of laughter._

_"Yeah? Glad you noticed. It's been a bit difficult."_

_He turned to look at her. Alarmed by his movement, Clara pulled the spray can free from her bag, finger poised on the trigger. Lupin glanced down at it, then slowly looked back up at her. Clara's hands shook. She had never seen so much sorrow – so much _pain_ – in someone's eyes. _

_"You planning to use that?" he asked without emotion, jerking his chin towards the can in her hand. She swallowed._

_"I – I don't want to."_

_Another surprise. All her life, her father had told her stories about his work – true stories of werewolves and all the horrible things they did to innocent people. Whatever personal problems she had with her father, she had never doubted that his job was necessary – that he was a HERO._

_Yet here she was, with the chance to prove to her father that she was strong, that she was just as good as a son. Here she was, with a man-eating, child-killing, lascivious, bloodthirsty Dark Creature in front of her… and she couldn't bring herself to hurt him._

_"I don't want to hurt you," she said quietly, still holding the spray can in front of her. Professor Lupin stared at her, his gaze unreadable._

_"You could have killed me," she burst out suddenly, and he raised an eyebrow. "From the moment you met me, you knew EXACTLY who I was. You could have lured me away from the castle, you could have BITTEN me."_

_"Do you _actually_ think I would do that?" he said softly, incredulously. "Do you actually think I would try to hurt an innocent girl?"_

_She didn't answer, and he shook his head in bemusement._

_"Clara, I don't know what your father has taught you about werewolves, but most of us don't like to hurt people. No matter _who_ they are."_

_"But my father is _Marcus Belfry_. I would think you'd… you'd…"_

_"Want to get even with him?"_

_"Yes!"_

_Lupin sighed, running a hand down his face._

_"Why are we arguing about this, Clara? It's not going to change anything."_

_He closed his eyes, pressing his palms against them in frustration._

_"I knew I should have gotten some colored contacts or something…," he muttered. "Just kept _forgetting_ about it like an idiot. Thought I'd at least make it to Christmas…"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_He threw his hands out to the sides, letting out another hysterical bark of laughter._

_"Well it's over, isn't it? Even if you don't decide to give me a face full of silver, you're still going to run off to Daddy. I am such a fucking _idiot_…"_

_Clara bristled. _

_"I am NOT going to run off to DADDY," she growled. "What the hell do you think I am, his _lackey_?"_

_His brow furrowed._

_"Well, what ARE you going to do then?"_

_Clara opened her mouth, then closed it. To be quite honest, she hadn't thought that far ahead yet. She stared at Professor Lupin, who was looking at her apprehensively. And suddenly, it was her turn to furrow her brow._

_"Why can't you just… Obliviate me or something?" she asked incredulously. "It's not like I'd stand much of a chance against you in a fight…"_

_"How do you know I haven't tried that already?"_

_She narrowed her eyes at him._

_"Have you?"_

_"No. But you see my point. You were bound to figure it out eventually. If it's not the eyes, it'll be the changes in my weight, or a scar you see, or the schedule of my absences. If I make you forget now, we'll just have this whole conversation again in a few weeks. And believe me, my nerves can't take this twice."_

_She gaped at him._

_"If you knew I was bound to figure it out, why did you even come here? Surely there are safer places for you to be, where you're not going to be hanging out with the children of werewolf hunters!"_

_His sudden grin completely befuddled her._

_"You're mistaken in assuming that safety is my first priority."_

_"What?"_

_He cocked his head at her._

_"Clara, have you ever met a werewolf? Before me, I mean."_

_She shifted her feet, grip tightening on the can of silver spray._

_"No," she finally admitted. He nodded, unsurprised._

_"You've never met one, and all you know about them is what your father has told you."_

_"Your point is?"_

_Lupin crossed his arms over his chest._

_"Clara, you've known me for two months now. You've learned things from me, you've laughed at my awful jokes, you've made smart-aleck comments behind my back. You look at me, and you see a _person_."_

_She stared at him, and he gave her a strangely sad smile._

_"Like it or not, that's why you haven't used that spray yet," he said, nodding down at her hand. "That's why you're standing here talking to me, not running away screaming. And no matter what happens after this, no matter what you decide to do when you walk out that door…"_

_His voice faltered, and he swallowed thickly before continuing, his voice quiet._

_"No matter what you do now, I will always remember when Marcus Belfry's daughter found out I was a werewolf… and still spoke to me as if I _mattered_."_

_The word's echoed in the silent classroom, and Clara had to remind herself to breath. His speech over, Lupin was staring holes into the floor, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest._

_Finally, Clara cleared her throat. _

_"You're a real sap, you know that?"_

_He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised._

_ "Oi, I can still deduct House points, you know," he said dryly. She rolled her eyes. Then slowly, deliberately, she opened her bag and returned the spray can to its designated pocket. Professor Lupin's gaze tracked her every move, and when she looked up at him, hands empty, he was staring at her with wide eyes._

_For the first time in her life, Clara felt the weight of real power. She held this man's life in her hands. This brave, intelligent, charismatic man, who now stood in front of her with fear written across his features. She suddenly felt awkward, and uncertain._

_"Professor, I…" she stammered. "I don't think my dad would come after someone like _you_."_

_Something flickered in Lupin's gaze, but Clara soldiered on resolutely._

_"I know you're breaking laws by being here, but you… you seem like a good person. The WCU only captures the werewolves who…"_

_"Deserve it?" he finished for her, his voice low. She swallowed, and nodded nervously. His eyes burned with anger._

_"Clara, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but you deserve to hear the truth."_

_He took a deep breath, and Clara's stomach lurched with fear. _

_"The WCU tortures, murders, and imprisons innocent people every single day. I know," he said, holding up a hand as she opened her mouth indignantly, "they also protect the public from dangerous Dark Creatures. But Clara, ninety percent of the people they bring in have done _nothing_. Nothing except try to keep their families alive in a world that hates them."_

_"That's not true," Clara said, shaking her head vehemently. "My- my dad saves people, he keeps us all _safe_ –"_

_"People I love have suffered and died at the hands of your father, and others like him."_

_Clara felt as though ice water had been dumped on her head. She stared at Professor Lupin in horror. The young man's jaw was clenched, his eyes hard and distant. He had to be lying, he HAD to be… but she knew he wasn't._

_"My father is not a murderer," she said, her voice small and her throat clogged with tears. Professor Lupin's eyes softened, and he looked down at her with something akin to sympathy. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached across the distance between them and gripped her shoulder, meeting her eyes intently._

_"Clara Belfry, you are a _good person_," he said, his voice soft and sure. "I know you have your doubts, I know you have your problems – we all do. But in the end, you are a good person. You don't want to think ill of your father, I can understand that. And I'm so sorry that you're in this position. But one day very soon – perhaps even today – you're going to have to choose."_

_"Choose what?" she asked, hating the way her voice wavered. He shrugged, mouth quirking up at the corner._

_"What you believe in."_

* * *

Needless to say, she hadn't turned him in. But neither could she fully accept that her father and the WCU were in the wrong. So she was left stuck in the middle, the power to end a man's life in her uncertain hands.

Sometimes, Clara cursed the day she ever met Remus Lupin.

As the days and weeks passed and no WCU showed up at his door, the apprehensive fear in Lupin's eyes had gradually turned to disbelief, and eventually to outright respect. It was the sheer gratitude she sometimes saw in his gaze that really killed her. Somehow, against all the odds, she had become a beacon of hope for a delusional werewolf activist.

They never talked again. Clara really didn't want to know any more about what Lupin was up to. She had problems enough of her own.

This summer had been even more awful than usual. Marcus Belfry wasn't a pleasant man to begin with, and recent events made him even more volatile. The night after the Hogsmeade Festival, he gave Clara's mum a black eye. When the pamphlet fell about the man he had killed that night, he split Clara's lip.

This most recent pamphlet had led to a hospital visit for both Belfry women. Clara was clinging to her last scrap of faith in the man who had raised her… but her fingers were slipping.

Dumbledore's speech finally rambled to an end. Heaps of food suddenly appeared before them. Staring blankly at a plate full of Yorkshire pudding, Clara said absently, "I really hope Professor Lupin's okay."

Merrick and Maggie shot each other a look, and stood to leave.

"What do _you_ care?" Merrick said, before pulling Maggie away.

Clara felt a desperate, almost hysterical bubble of laughter well up inside her.

"I don't know, Merrick," she muttered to herself. "I honestly don't know."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, peeps! Hope you're enjoying it :)**


	37. Chapter 36

Regulus Black's throat burned. His most recent swig of unidentifiable liquor left a trail of fire down to his stomach, where it battled feebly with the packet of crisps he'd had for breakfast. Ogden's Finest didn't export to Mauritania, so one had to rely on more local sources of alcohol.

Sand stung the back of his neck as a gust of wind burst through the doorway. The smell of the desert filled his mud-brick hovel, and he saw no point in getting up to close the door.

Anyone who had known Regulus in his youth would not have given this shell of a man a second look. Thin and gaunt, he had aged far beyond his thirty-three years. His graying black hair was long and stringy, his beard unkempt. His shoulders slumped, his body stooped with the look of a man who is eternally ill, and his once sparkling grey eyes were glazed with fatigue and a hint of madness.

The mud-brick room in which he sat had been his home for six months now. Though 'home' is probably not the word he would have used. Still, it was the longest he'd been able to stay in one place for over nine years. His pursuers had been distracted by certain… events… in Eastern Europe.

_"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer…_" Regulus sang under his breath, swaying his head back and forth as he drew abstract patterns in the dust with a dirty finger. He took another drink. Disgusting stuff.

"What are you waiting for, Regulus Black?" he asked aloud, still singing the words a bit. "Why are you here?"

_I'm here because I'm a bloody coward_.

Regulus Black knew something that no other person on Earth did. And it was driving him insane.

The light from the doorway was dimming, and the black-haired man stumbled to his feet, unsteadily making his way outside. This was the only part of the day he didn't hate. The sun dipped towards the horizon, bathing the Sahara in a red glow. Regulus stood barefoot in the sand, swaying, staring out at a sky lit the color of blood.

And then his mind _exploded_.

Frenzied images passed before his eyes too quickly to register, and Regulus was dimly aware of his knees hitting the ground as he collapsed under the pure force of emotions not his own. Terror, pain, guilt, fury, hatred… intensified and magnified a thousand times as memories streamed across his consciousness.

_Kill me._

The whisper of a small boy echoed through Regulus's skull as he jerked back to his senses. He was face down in the sand, practically inhaling it as he gasped for breath, heart beating wildly. He rolled onto his side and lay there for a long moment, stunned.

"Please, no_," _he whispered. "Please, Merlin, no. Not like this, not like this…"

Sticky tears leaked down his face, mixing with the sand that was caught in his beard. Regulus paid them no mind. He hadn't exactly been waiting for a sign, but someone had sent him one anyway. Well, not just someone.

_Kirill_.

It was time.

* * *

A/N: I knoooowww it's so short! But I promise, the next chapter will be up soon. This was going to be an intro to a longer section, but I felt like it deserved its own separate chapter :D Thanks for all the reviews!


	38. Chapter 37

Nymphadora Tonks was out of her depth. Fear rose, acidic and choking, in her throat as she huddled further into the darkest corner of The George and Dragon. The seediest pub in the roughest part of Manchester, at that very moment it was also the most dangerous place in all of Britain.

It was October 31st. Remus had been missing for two months, and hardly a day went by when Tonks didn't search for him. She had started alone, looking for signs of him in the Forbidden Forest, in Hogsmeade, near the Burrow, in Diagon Alley and all the pubs and wizarding towns in Britain she could think of. Hopelessness had threatened to overwhelm her when reality finally set in: it was a big world, and Remus could be _anywhere_.

It wasn't that noone else wanted to search for him. His disappearance had led to an uproar at Hogwarts – both above and below ground. Another riot in the dungeons was narrowly avoided by the forceful and charismatic intervention of the Diamantis family, who were now de facto leaders of the refugee community. Some of the Dark Creatures had promptly departed, led by Patrick, the Irish werewolf. With their memories wiped, they set off for Africa. Two weeks later, they were on the front page of the Daily Prophet – dead in Johannesburg after HAWE tracked them down.

Nobody made any moves to leave after that. An almost tangible chill settled over the dungeons as the refugees realized that they were well and truly trapped – completely at the mercy of the humans who sheltered them. Responsibility weighed heavily on the men, women, and children who kept the underground city a closely guarded secret.

Yes, Remus was missed quite badly. His absence was like an open wound that refused to heal. But there was too much to do, too many fires to put out – the Triwizard Tournament was fast approaching, the underground city was struggling to become peaceful and self-sufficient, pamphlets had to be written and distributed, Wizengamot members had to be won over… and all the time, the threat of discovery loomed large. Tonks herself – what with Auror training and helping in the dungeons – could only dedicate an hour or so each day to searching before she collapsed from exhaustion, rising several hours later to start the whole cycle again.

With no idea of where to look next, the young woman had finally turned to the person who knew Remus best.

Alex Diamantis was no longer the buoyant, energetic young man who had sat awkwardly in the Burrow kitchen in July. He – like so many others now – had seen too many horrible things to retain the childlike joy that had made him so different from Remus. The only remnants of that joy had disappeared abruptly the moment he discovered that his best friend had abandoned them.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with Tonks.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to keep a thousand people from killing each other down here. I don't have time for this."

Alex refused to meet Tonks's gaze as they knelt in the newly charmed underground greenhouse. They were planting potatos, and the young man was ramming the seeds into the ground with far more force than was necessary.

"Don't you want to find him? I would think _you_ of all people – "

"_I_ of all people would expect my best friend to _stand by me_, and not abandon his people in their hour of need."

Tonks stared at him, open-mouthed. He glanced up at her, his brown eyes smoldering with fury.

"Don't act like you're not angry too, Tonks," he snarled. "He _left_ you, without so much as a goodbye. He knew the situation here was fragile, he knew how much we all _depended_ on him –"

"You saw him that night! He has PTSD, he's not in his right mind –"

"Hardly anyone down here is in their right mind, Tonks. You don't see _me_ running off, you don't see my _father_ abandoning the people who need him."

"We don't know what's going on with him, I think there's something seriously _wrong_."

"Then why didn't he _talk to me_?!"

Silence fell between them as Tonks fought to find an answer to that very good question. Tears had become an all-too-common visitor, and Tonks cursed quietly as she dashed a hand across her traitorous eyes. Alex's gaze softened as he looked at her across the row of violently planted seedlings. He sighed.

"Look, I – "

He hesitated for a moment, then continued quietly, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening.

"I can tell you a few places to check. If I know him at all – and right now, I'm not entirely sure I _do_ – I'd say he's planning to track down some of the HAWE leaders."

"… why?"

Alex gave her a withering look.

"Why do you _think_?"

"He – he wouldn't try and… _kill_ them, would he?"

Alex turned his gaze back to the ground, recommencing with the potato seeds.

"Remus is a lot of things, Tonks. A saint is _not_ one of them. You push a man far enough – even a good man like him – and sooner or later he breaks. I don't blame him for that. Hell, if he murdered every HAWE member he could get his hands on, I still wouldn't blame him. But I _do_ blame him for leaving right when we need him the most."

A long silence stretched between them. Tonks played with the dirt on her side of the row half-heartedly, her stomach churning with newly awakened fear. The Remus she knew would never murder someone in cold blood. But the man she had glimpsed in his worst moments – the one with deathly cold eyes and a vicelike grip… that man could be a murderer.

Tonks drew in a long, shaking breath. She needed to find Remus before he lost himself completely.

"Will you help me, Alex?"

The young Greek looked up at her, meeting her determined gaze. After a long moment, he nodded slowly.

"Okay. Yes. But I can't come with you most of the time. It would be more dangerous to go with a werewolf than on your own. Is there anyone else you can trust?"

Tonks hesitated.

"If any of the older people find out, they'll try and stop me. Sirius would have _kittens_ if he knew what I was doing."

"Clarence then? Terry?"

Tonks nodded.

"Yeah. Dennis too, if he's free."

And so the next phase of her search began, directed by Alex and aided by a rotating cast of volunteers. It was a harrowing, often traumatic undertaking. What used to be underground Dark Creature pubs and meeting places in Britain were now abandoned or – in a few cases – scenes of recent, grisly violence. Against his better judgment, Alex was finally forced to give them a few locations in Eastern Europe – cities and old haunts where Remus may have retreated. When even these turned up nothing, Tonks and her compatriots sat down with Alex again, this time plying him with Firewhiskey.

They were in the kitchen's side room. It was nearing midnight, and a small fire was burning in the grate. Tonks sat on the edge of her armchair, Terry beside her, with Alex and Clarence on the sofa. Alex was slumped against the cushions, obviously exhausted from another long day of keeping the peace. He held the whiskey tumbler to his forehead, his eyes shut tight as the ice cooled his skin.

"For the last time – _no_."

Tonks let out an exasperated huff.

"Two weeks ago, you said he was probably going after the HAWE leadership. So wouldn't this be the best way to find him?"

Alex lowered his arm, drained his whiskey, and set the tumbler down on a side table with a decisive _crack_.

"You start looking for their hideouts, and you're going to find a lot more than you bargained for. Remus won't _thank _you for getting yourselves killed."

"We're not planning on getting ourselves killed," Tonks said drily. Alex laughed without a trace of humour.

"Noone ever does, Tonks."

The now brown-haired young woman drew an angry breath, but Clarence shook her head, her eyes warning Tonks not to push the issue. She then reached across Alex and grabbed the tumbler, silently refilling it and handing it back to him. He shot the blonde a grateful look before once again turning his gaze to Tonks.

"You can't keep doing this. You've already put yourself in too much danger. If Remus knew I sent you to Bucharest, he would _neuter_ me."

"Charlie came with us, we were fine."

"You were lucky, that's what you were."

"What do you want us to do? Just give up?"

Alex let his head fall back against the couch.

"Why can't you ask Dumbledore for help? Or any of the other Order members?"

"They're too busy, you know that. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations get to Hogwarts next week, and Sirius thinks that the Order is making real progress at the Ministry. The Dark Creatures have twenty percent support in the Wizengamot now, but they _have_ to keep _pushing_."

Alex was rubbing his eyes wearily. He already knew all this.

"There's nobody _else_, Alex!" Tonks cried. "If we don't look for Remus, who will?"

"Don't you _get it_, Tonks?" the young man cried out, his voice cracking. "_He doesn't want to be found!_"

Silence fell, heavy and uncomfortable. Tonks swallowed, and picked at a hole in her jeans with shaking fingers. Finally, tentatively, Clarence spoke.

"Alex… what do you think Remus would do if it were _you_ out there?"

Alex turned to look at her, and for the first time in a month, they saw a glimpse of the young man he used to be, before responsibility fell all too heavily on his shoulders. His eyes glistened with restrained tears, and when he spoke his voice was choked.

"He'd come and find me. Don't think that I don't know that. Something has gone wrong in his head – he's alone and angry and probably scared, and he _needs me._ But he's too good at hiding. And I can't afford to spend days and weeks looking for him, not when fights are breaking out here every day, and Tom Barrett is just _waiting_ for us to make a mistake!"

He looked back at Tonks, his eyes dark and intense.

"Every time you go out there searching, you put every person in this castle at risk. If somebody in HAWE spots you, if they suspect you're somehow involved with all of this… you'll find yourself on the wrong end of a _Crucio_ before you know what's happening."

Alex's mouth tightened as he looked around at their ashen faces.

"I've kept you to the safer areas so far – places where you wouldn't stand out, where it was unlikely that HAWE would post a guard. But if you start waltzing into their hideouts, hoping to find Remus before he goes on some sort of murdering rampage, then it won't be long before you get yourselves and everyone down here killed."

He held Tonks's gaze for a long moment before raising the tumbler to his lips again. Tossing the whiskey back deftly, he leaned forward and grabbed the bottle.

"I'm sorry, Tonks, I really am. I know you care about him. We all do. But he made a choice, and all we can do now is try and live with it."

With that, he rose and left the room, shoulders slumped and the bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand. Clarence shot her friends a concerned glance, then stood as well.

"I'll – I'll see if I can change his mind…" she said absently before setting off after him. Tonks didn't even spare a moment to wonder _why_ exactly Clarence thought she would have any influence over the young werewolf.

She sat stiffly, her fists clenched and her mouth set in a grim line. Terry could obviously see the gears turning in her head, for he drew a deep breath.

"He's right, you know."

Tonks looked sharply over at her friend. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze.

"If we get caught out there, we'll put this whole castle in danger. Maybe we should just…"

"Just _what_, Terry?" Tonks asked, her voice quiet and fierce. "Leave Remus out there to- to chase after Tom Barrett, and kill people, and lose sight of _everything_ he's stood for all these years?"

"We don't know that's what he's doing. There have been _no_ reports of attacks on HAWE strongholds, no murders – don't you think they would have plastered it all over the front page of the Prophet, if somebody was going around killing HAWE supporters?"

Tonks stood abruptly, rubbing her eyes furiously as she paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"Maybe he's planning something big, I don't know. But if he _isn't_ going after HAWE, then what the hell is he doing? Why did he leave, and why has he stayed away for so long?"

Terry leaned forward, resting his skinny elbows on his knees.

"Could it have something to do with his memory?"

"What do you mean?"

"That last night – when he attacked Bill – he was speaking _Russian_."

Tonks stared at her friend blankly. He sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair.

"Look, my Gran's from Moscow. I don't know what he said, but it was definitely Russian."

"So he speaks Russian. Why does that matter?"

"But he _doesn't_, Tonks, I _know_ that. I was helping in the Hospital Wing when his fighters all came back, and some of them were Russian. He came over, and needed one of them to translate for him."

Tonks furrowed her brow.

"… what are you saying?"

Terry stood up, crossing to stand in front of her.

"You told us that he doesn't remember his childhood at all – doesn't even remember what _language_ he learned first. And then in a moment of extreme emotional disturbance, he starts saying things he wouldn't normally be able to understand. What does that tell you?"

Tonks felt her blood run cold.

"His memories are coming back," she whispered. Terry nodded.

"I think Alex suspects the same thing," he said quietly. "He just doesn't want to think about it, because there's still nothing he can do."

Tonks sat down heavily on the couch, and buried her face in her hands.

"Oh Terry, I'm such an idiot!"

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, furiously wiping tears off her cheeks. Terry shifted awkwardly on his feet in front of her. After a long moment, Tonks gave up trying to stem the flow of tears and simply hunched on the sofa, numbly watching salty drips make her hands wet in her lap.

"I said that whatever happened, I would be there for him. I told him if he ever remembered, he wouldn't have to go through it alone. But because he's _Remus_, and he's a giant fucking _twat_ with a _martyr_ complex –" Terry snorted loudly at this, "he just _ran off_! And now he's more alone than he's ever been."

A long silence followed this outburst, broken only by the faint crackling of wood in the grate. Finally, Terry returned to his armchair.

"So… what now?"

For a long moment, Tonks just continued to stare holes in the carpet. But then she slowly raised her gaze to meet Terry's.

"I'm going to find Remus and bring him home."

Terry furrowed his brow.

"But… but Tonks, weren't you _listening_? If we go out there, we're putting everyone here at risk!"

"That's why you're not coming. I can look like anyone, I can blend in anywhere."

"Are you _insane_? Yeah, you can morph, but what if someone starts talking to you, what if something you do makes people suspicious? Where are you even going to _look_?"

"Stan's been getting information for Dennis, to help with the pamphlets. Maybe he can get me some targets."

"You're _both_ insane."

"Wars are never won by staying safe, Terry."

"They're not won by being _stupid_, either! Why are you so ready to risk your life for Professor Lupin?"

"Because I_ love _him!" she cried. "Isn't that reason enough? Never mind the fact that he's been fighting for other people for _years_, and yet the moment _he_ needs someone else to fight for him, everyone's too busy!"

"That's not fair, Tonks –"

"I know it's not, but it's the _truth_. And I can't just sit here while he's out there alone, I _can't_."

Silence fell as the two friends stared daggers at each other.

"You're being _selfish_, Tonks," Terry finally said, "and frankly, so is Professor Lupin. If either one of you gets caught, there is a very real chance that everyone down here will die."

Tonks stood up, wiping the remaining tears from her face. She swallowed, and clenched her fists.

"I just won't get caught, then."

For all her posturing, Tonks was very much aware that she was playing with fire. She was almost relieved when Stan told her his relationships in the WCU were too fragile at the moment to even think about trying to get target locations. This roadblock was probably the only reason why Terry didn't rat her out to Sirius.

Right now, she really wished he had.

A week ago, Stan finally came to her with a place to scout – The George and Dragon, in Manchester. One of his colleagues had mentioned it in passing. It was a long shot, but Tonks grabbed it and ran. She got Tom Barrett's description off one of Alex's friends – "as close to a weasel as you can get and still be a man, with a white scar across his throat". Armed with this information, and morphed as a balding middle-aged man, she ventured to the pub for dinner.

The place was run-down, dirty, frequented by some of the most unpleasant witches and wizards Tonks had ever seen. Apart from several disgustingly racist comments overheard from the tables around her, that first evening was entirely uneventful. No Tom Barrett, no Marcus Belfry, no large groups of shady characters discussing things in hushed tones. Most importantly, no Remus.

She returned the next night disguised as an old hag, the next as a tweed-sweatered librarian… The week pressed on, October 31st arrived, and Tonks decided that she would go once more before admitting defeat.

It was a Tuesday, and The George and Dragon was not a particular favorite amongst the kinds of people who celebrated Halloween. Tonks was one of six patrons, none of whom could be bothered to crawl out of their whiskey glasses long enough to speak more than a few syllables. One man looked like he had actually fallen asleep with his forehead resting on the rim of his tumbler, stringy black hair falling in a curtain around his face. A few sad orange streamers fluttered half-heartedly in the wind from the open door, somehow making the dingy pub look even more depressing.

Tonks sat in a corner booth with a pint of bitter and a book. Deciding that stakeouts were much less exciting than people made them out to be, she had practically thrown in the towel on a disguise, opting for her normal heart-shaped face, rarely-seen natural mousy brown hair and dark brown eyes. She occasionally turned the page of _Centaurs: Man or Horse?_, but she wasn't really reading.

Exactly a year ago today, she had been in the Room of Requirement when Professor Lupin stormed in, looking like death warmed over. She hadn't been wearing a shirt, and he blushed and looked away. The memory was strong enough to bring color to her cheeks even now. Later that night, he took her hurt wrist in his warm hands, and she glimpsed the darkness in his eyes for the first time.

So much had happened since then. She was a different person now, so far removed from the naïve girl she had been. And what used to be a silly crush on a teacher had turned into a love so fierce that she was willing to risk everything to find him.

_Where are you?_

Footsteps sounded on the pavement outside. She looked up.

Tom Barrett stood in the doorway.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you're all enjoying it! It's really becoming rather complicated... let me know if it's not making sense, it makes sense in my head at least, haha.


	39. Chapter 38

Her first reaction was to duck her head, but thankfully some calm, professional part of her brain managed to halt the suspicious movement. Instead, she simply gave the man a casual once-over before returning to her book, straight face belying the acidic fear that was choking her.

He was younger than she had expected – perhaps in his late twenties – but he wasn't much to look at. Thin, of middling height, he had wispy light brown hair and a bald patch. His features were sharp, pinched, as though he'd spent too much time squinting to see in the dark. The most striking part of his appearance was an ugly white scar that stretched across his neck, practically from ear to ear. Tonks risked a second glance at it as he strode to the bar and gestured for a Firewhiskey. She quickly returned her gaze to her book, feeling sick. A wound like that should have killed him.

She took slow, deliberate breaths as her mind raced.

_Stick to the plan_, she thought. _Observe. Overhear._ _Don't get caught_.

Simple enough.

Barrett had turned his back to her, leaning against the bar as he sipped his whiskey slowly. He was watching the door. Tonks eyed him for a while, wondering if she should leave and come back morphed as someone else, so she could sit near him at the bar without raising any suspicions. She was on the verge of standing up when two men stepped through the doorway, and turned Tonks's fear into outright panic.

Vladimir Krum and Marcus Belfry must have stopped off at home on their way from the Ministry, for neither one of them was wearing their WCU uniform. Tonks turned a page of her book, hands shaking almost uncontrollably. Those men _knew_ her. Vladimir Krum taught her physical defence twice a week. Marcus Belfry probably threw darts at a cardboard cutout of her face.

_Why the FUCK didn't I morph? What was I THINKING?_

Clearly she _hadn't_ been thinking.

_This is why they don't let eighteen-year old cadets go on real missions. Idiots, the lot of us._

Her naïve confidence was unequivocally gone, and she suddenly felt cold, small, and very alone. Alex and Terry had been so right, this was stupid, this was insane… but it was already happening. She was unpleasantly reminded of the only time she'd been on a Muggle roller coaster. She was committed now, and had no choice but to ride it out.

She couldn't get up and leave – the door was right behind them, and she would have to cross their line of sight to get to the toilets. She certainly couldn't morph right here, someone would notice. The man with stringy black hair slumped at the bar had finally removed his forehead from the rim of his tumbler, and was shooting her odd looks now and again. The last thing she needed was some drunken idiot shouting about how the girl in the corner had changed her nose.

She forced herself to take deep, even breaths. Krum and Belfry hadn't even glanced her way. She was in the corner farthest away from them, and the pub was dim and smoky. Her hair was never brown at the Ministry, so there was a reasonable chance that Krum and Belfry wouldn't recognize her even if they _did_ see her. A few more deep breaths and she was almost calm again. Any grand ideas of eavesdropping or gaining information were long gone. Now, her only goal was to sit tight and not get noticed. If Remus showed up… well, she would just have to improvise.

Considering that these were three of the most powerful men in a radical hate group, it seemed like a terribly mundane meeting. Krum and Belfry greeted Barrett with smiles and slaps on the back before joining him at the bar. They sipped leisurely at their drinks and chatted away, looking more like golf buddies than violent murderers. Tonks was too far away to make out their words, and as the minutes ticked by, she drank her beer and turned the pages of her book with determined calm.

An hour passed, and the men showed no signs of leaving. Tonks's pint glass was nearly empty, and the numb panic she had been holding at bay began to set in once more. It was nearing ten o'clock on Halloween night, and she was a young woman sitting alone in a pub with a book and now no beer. She had blended in thus far, but it wouldn't be long before her presence became suspicious.

Her long bangs formed a convenient curtain, behind which her eyes began to search for options. It was an unseasonably warm night, so she hadn't brought a scarf or a hat with her – nothing to hide even a small part of her face as she walked past the trio at the bar. She could go up and order another drink, which would make her look less out of place… but that involved standing up and inviting their gaze. She couldn't just Apparate, because like all wizarding pubs, The George and Dragon had anti-Apparition wards up – a wise precaution to keep drunk customers from splinching themselves.

Tonks was beginning to lay out a vague and ludicrous plan involving disillusioning parts of her body and crawling through ventilation shafts when her drifting eyes accidentally met Barrett's across the room. The bottom dropped out of her stomach… and then her view was blocked by someone very tall and very smelly.

Heart in her throat, Tonks looked up.

"Mind if I sit here?"

The stringy-haired man from the bar didn't wait for an answer. He sank unceremoniously onto the bench opposite her, and slid a fresh pint of ale across the table. She gaped at him.

"Looks like you could use some company," he said, shooting her a crooked grin. "What are you reading?"

His forehead still bore the faint circular impression of a whiskey glass rim. Clearing her throat, Tonks managed to tear her gaze away from it and handed him the book, summoning up fake enthusiasm for the chapters she had only pretended to read.

"_Centaurs: Man or Horse?_" she said, "the latest by Bathilda Bagshot. It's actually quite good, despite the title."

The man snorted, turning the book over and reading the summary on the back. Tonks examined him warily. Tall and gaunt, his stubbled face pale and sunken, he looked like a typical denizen of Knockturn Alley. His hair was greasy and unwashed, and if the smell that emanated from his tattered black robes was any indication, the rest of him was unwashed as well. He had the desperate air of a homeless tramp, and as he looked back up at her, Tonks saw a flash of something… not quite right… behind his grey eyes.

He handed the book back.

"Not my cup of tea," he said shortly, before taking a swig of whiskey.

Tonks realized that – crazy or not – this man might actually be her only hope of escape. Whatever his intentions, she was less likely to attract unwanted attention now that she was engaged in conversation. She may even be able to guide this man out the door with her, using him as a human shield…

"What would be your cup of tea?" she asked, trying to sound only vaguely interested, instead of desperate to keep him talking. "Cheers for the drink, by the way."

He raised his glass to hers, and they both drank. Tonks instantly recognized the ale he'd gotten her – Harpy's Porter, the same beer Sirius made her try the first time he took her out in London this past summer. The thought of Sirius – and the carefree safety of only a few months ago – almost brought tears to her eyes, and she swallowed the ale with difficulty.

"Well, if we're sticking to Bagshot books, then probably _Hogwarts: A History_."

Tonks blinked. She forced herself to remember what they had been talking about.

"Really. Why's that?"

The man shrugged.

"Don't you think it's important to know the history of where we lived for seven years?"

"You went to Hogwarts?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she realized just how stupid and, frankly, insulting that had sounded.

"Sorry, I mean… of course you did."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"People with shoddy robes can go to school too, you know."

She took a long sip of ale, avoiding his gaze.

"What house were you in?" she asked quietly, when she finally came up for air.

"Slytherin."

"Ah."

"You?"

"Hufflepuff."

"Graduated…. last year, was it?"

She looked at him sharply.

"How do you know that?"

He just smiled, and took another drink.

"What brings you to The George and Dragon?" he asked, capturing her gaze with his unsettling grey eyes.

"My cousin lives a few blocks from here," she readily explained, having anticipated this question. "His kids are a handful at the best of times, and what with trick or treating and all, I had to get out of the house."

For some unfathomable reason, the man's eyes dimmed.

"Your cousin?"

She nodded.

"How many – " he cut himself off, and seemed to struggle for a moment before continuing. "How many children does he have?"

She stared at him for a moment before answering, "Three."

Something she had said had plunged the man into a dark mood. He slumped against the back of the bench, twirling the amber liquid in his tumbler gloomily. Tonks seized the opportunity to shoot a glance at the bar. Barrett and his cronies were still there, with two new men she didn't recognize. Lovely.

She looked back at the morose person slumped before her. The only way she was going to make it past those men and out the door was with him at her side – practically glued there, if possible. To do that without raising suspicion from any party…

_Oh Merlin_, she thought, nausea rising in her throat. _I'm going to have to make a pass at him_.

With that incredibly unpleasant thought in mind, Tonks reexamined him. He was probably in his early forties, though drink may have aged him faster than was his due. Falling for Remus had accustomed Tonks to look beyond a ragged surface appearance, though, and as she examined the man opposite her, she saw that at one time he must have been quite handsome.

Steeling herself, she reached across the table and laid her hand on his. He jerked out of his stupor, looking down at their joined hands before turning his wary gaze to hers. She smiled.

"What do you say we get out of here, hmm? Atmosphere's just a little too… gloomy, wouldn't you say? We can get a few drinks somewhere else and, well… see where the night takes us?"

She was really quite terrible at this whole pickup line thing. Her only hope was that he was desperate enough and drunk enough to take her up on it. Her blood froze, though, as his eyes suddenly bore into hers with alarming intensity.

A long, tense moment passed before he finally spoke.

"You're not just here for a drink. Are you?"

She opened her mouth, fully prepared to say something innocent and unsuspicious, but he cut her off.

"This can't just be some bizarre coincidence, some horrible twist of fate."

"What are you – "

But he was already standing, his broad frame blocking her view of the bar. Grabbing his whiskey, he tossed the last of it down before reaching for her elbow and hauling her to her feet.

"Put your coat on," he growled, his voice dangerous. "And grab that fucking book."

Heart pounding in her chest, Tonks did as he said. What was going on? What was he planning to do?

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. Tonks nearly choked on the stench that rose from his clothes, but didn't complain as he led her through the bar and towards the door, their pace unhurried. She felt stubble rasp against her skin, and realized that he had kissed her forehead like a drunken lover.

_What the hell?_

Barrett and his men didn't even spare them a glance as they passed, and Tonks almost cried with relief when they reached the cobblestone street outside. But the man did not release her. Instead, he practically dragged her down the sidewalk, pace quickening with every step.

"What are you _doing_?" she finally cried, prying herself free. She didn't want to hurt this man – after all, he had unknowingly saved her skin – but she would if she had to.

He didn't answer, and just grabbed her wrist in a vicelike grip. Instincts from Auror training and from Remus's lessons kicked in immediately, and she twisted her arm free, pulling her attacker off balance before hitting him squarely in the nose. He cried out, and she took full advantage of the distraction. By the time the man looked up, blood streaming down his face, he was on the wrong end of an Auror cadet's wand.

"You have no idea what you're doing, girl," he spat, scarlet drops showering the pavement at his feet. "I just saved your life."

Tonks stared at him with wide eyes, her entire body now trembling. How did he know that?

"What do you mean?" she demanded, tightening her grip on her wand. He didn't look overly concerned by the wand tip in his face, and instead looked back down the street with a grimace.

"Can we go somewhere _else_, please? I'd prefer not to be here when the rest of them arrive."

"The rest of _who_?"

He gave her a withering look.

"Don't play dumb with me. You didn't go to that pub for its wide variety of _ales_."

Before she could blink, he flicked his fingers and her wand flew into his hand. She stared at him, too emotionally drained to feel anything but numb at this new development.

"Alleyway."

He jerked his chin towards a narrow entrance further down the street, far away from the light spilling from the pub doorway.

"Go. _Now._"

She went, heart pounding loudly in her chest. This was not good. This was _so _not good. A powerful, potentially psychotic wizard had her at wandpoint, and they were about to enter a dark alleyway down the street from a pub where some of the most dangerous men in the world were having a pint.

_How the hell do I get myself into these situations?_ she wondered vaguely, even as her mind raced to find a way to escape.

"I'm not going to hurt you, girl," the man said from behind her as they entered the alley. "I just want some information."

She turned around. A dim street lamp cast strange shadows down the alleyway, silhouetting her captor with dirty orange light. Her mouth tightened defiantly.

"I don't know what kind of information you expect me to have, but I'm not giving it to you."

A huff of what might have been laughter escaped the man's lips.

"Pretty brave, for a Hufflepuff."

She glared at him, unamused. To her surprise, the man lowered her wand and backed away, leaning casually against a brick wall. Light fell on his face, and she could see that he had healed his broken nose and cleaned away most of the blood. He was examining her almost hungrily.

"All I _really_ want to know," he said softly, "is what exactly Nymphadora Tonks expected to find in that pub."

She stared at him for a long, flabbergasted moment.

"Wh – what?" she finally stammered.

"You heard me."

"I – I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else-"

"I don't."

She just stood there, utterly confused. Somehow, this man knew her name. That couldn't possibly be a good thing.

In the face of her continued silence, the man sighed.

"Look, I know you have absolutely no reason to believe this, but I am _not_ going to hurt you. And if my assumptions about you are correct, then we are very much on the same side."

He glanced down at the wand in his hand and then, to her complete shock, turned it around and held it out to her.

"Here. A sign of good faith."

Warily, she took it.

"How do I know you're not going to do your little…" she waved her other hand in the air, "… trick?"

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Lupin never got round to teaching you wandless magic, eh?"

The name hit her like a punch in the gut.

"_Who are you?_" she hissed, brandishing her newly recovered wand at him again without even thinking about it. He crossed his arms over his chest, an unconcerned and vaguely manic smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, that doesn't matter. But I seem to have hit a nerve…"

He peered at her.

"Am I correct in assuming the name _Remus Lupin_ means something to you?"

She didn't respond, but the fire that now burned in her gaze was answer enough. His manic smile softened, and he waited a long moment before speaking again.

"He was your professor."

Tonks finally relented, her curiosity growing.

"Yes."

"You know that he's a werewolf."

"Yes."

"… you care about him."

She didn't answer. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward, stopping right before the tip of her wand touched his chest.

"I don't know what you expected to accomplish in that pub, Nymphadora."

"_Don't _call me Nymphadora."

She clapped a hand over her mouth, silently cursing herself. The man smiled, not unkindly, and slowly shook his head.

"I'm not one of the bad guys. Granted, I'm not exactly a good guy either… but your name is safe with me."

He held her gaze for a long moment, and Tonks couldn't help but feel as though she had seen those grey eyes somewhere before… She blinked, and the feeling was gone.

"Tonks," she said quietly. "My name is Tonks."

He nodded shortly, but offered no name in return.

"Something tells me you already know how stupid you've been tonight," he said bluntly. "Spying on Tom Barrett isn't a job for an amateur, no matter how brave you are."

Tonks wanted to be offended by his words. But she knew they were true.

"Why didn't you morph?" he asked.

"How the _hell _do you – "

He waved the question away.

"Doesn't matter."

She glared up at him mutinously before replying, "I didn't actually expect anyone to show up. I thought it was a dead lead."

"And so you didn't bother with a disguise at all? That was dumb."

She bristled.

"Yes, I _know_, Captain Obvious. What I _don't_ know is who the fuck _you_ are, and how you know so much about me!"

Inexplicably, he pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time.

"I'd love to tell you that, Tonks, but right now I have to be going. Rather urgent business, I'm afraid."

"_What?_"

He looked back up at her, catching her eyes intently.

"Does Remus care about you too?"

Her mouth was really getting quite dry from all the time spent hanging open in shock. The man looked down at his watch again impatiently.

"Tonks, I need an answer."

She cleared her throat.

"… uh… well, yes. At least… he did a few months ago."

"Right. I need you to come with me."

He batted her wand hand aside and grabbed her elbow once again. She wrenched herself free.

"Are you out of your mind?" she cried. "I don't know you, I don't know whose side you're on! Hell, you don't even know what side _I'm_ on!"

"We're on _Remus's _side," he said. "And right now, he needs as many friends as he can get."

She backed away from him, still unconvinced.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked, her voice unsteady. He shook his head.

"No. But I know where he'll be in…" he checked his watch again, "ten minutes."

Tonks stared at him, her breath shallow and fast, her hands clammy. He took a step towards her.

"That's why you're here tonight, isn't it Tonks? You're looking for him too."

She didn't respond. He shifted on his feet impatiently.

"Look, if I don't get to Remus soon, if I can't convince him to come with me… then a lot of very bad things are going to happen. I don't know if I can get through to him, but maybe you can. _Please, _Tonks."

He held out his hand to her, and she looked down at it, then back up at him. She searched his grey eyes.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

His mouth tightened.

"My name is Regulus Black."

The ground shifted under Tonks's feet, and she swayed. She stumbled. And her cousin caught her.

A crack echoed in Manchester, and the alleyway was empty.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews peeps!**


	40. Chapter 39

"You're dead."

"Apparently not," Regulus Black replied glibly.

He stood with his back to her in the glow of a waning moon, his hands in his pockets. Wherever they were, it was much colder than Manchester, and Tonks wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she stared incredulously up at the impossible man before her. Nausea and disorientation were common side effects of long-distance Apparating, and Tonks was on her knees, desperately trying not to vomit.

"Sirius turned your bedroom at Grimmauld Place into a _shrine_," she managed to spit out. "He named his son after you. He thinks you're _dead_. How could you do that to your own brother?"

Regulus turned to her, eyes wide.

"He named his son after me?"

Tonks just glared at him, unmoved by the emotions that momentarily flitted across her cousin's wasted face. After a long moment, she finally responded.

"I don't think he ever really accepted the fact that you fought for Voldemort."

Regulus flinched at the name and turned away, shoulders hunched.

"Yes, well… I didn't have much choice in the matter."

Tonks stared at his tense back, unsure how to respond. She followed his gaze to the dark sky above, and took a deep breath. The air was cold and crisp, old smoke and strange scents she couldn't identify filling her nose. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Suddenly, she didn't like this place.

"Where are we?" she demanded. Regulus jerked out of some sort of reverie, and turned his gaze back to her.

"Bulgaria," he said. "Right near the Greek border."

She froze. Something horrible twisted in the pit of her stomach.

"… why?"

Regulus surveyed the large clearing in front of them wearily.

"Because this is where we'll find Remus."

Biting down against the lingering nausea, Tonks got to her feet unsteadily, looked around, and gasped.

They were standing at the edge of a huge field, twice the size of a Quidditch pitch. The ground was bare and dusty, and the trees to either side of them were dead – burnt so thoroughly that the wood almost glowed white in the washed out moonlight. More trees lay on the ground in front of them, their fire hardened branches stretching out from the center of the field, as though trying to claw their way to safety…

"What is this place?" Tonks whispered, suddenly unwilling to break the oppressive silence of this strange tree graveyard. Regulus still had his back to her, but she could hear quivering rage echo in his voice when he said:

"Kamena. This is Kamena."

Bile rose in her throat, and Tonks heard Alice Longbottom's words from nearly a year ago echoing in her head – _only ashes, where once there were vibrant, living souls_…

"You're alive."

The rough voice sounded from the trees to their left, and Tonks let out an undignified squeak of terror. No footsteps or crack of Apparition had declared his presence, and yet a man now stood several feet from them, his figure almost consumed in shadow. Regulus turned to him calmly, as though he had been expected.

"Yes," he said simply. The dark figure was silent for a long moment. If it weren't for the moonlight glinting off the man's eyes, Tonks would have thought he had vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

"They told me you were dead," the man finally said. His accent was strange and unfamiliar. Tonks couldn't place it.

"They thought I was," Regulus replied again.

"Where have you been?"

The words were biting, accusatory. Almost on instinct, Tonks sank her hand into the pocket of her robes, gripping her wand tightly. Something about this shadowy figure put her on edge.

"I've been running," Regulus said. "They thought I knew where you were."

"And _did_ you?"

A muscle twitched in Regulus's jaw. He suddenly looked even more uncomfortable than Tonks felt.

"… yes."

The man crept forward slowly, silently, his moves almost predatory. Tonks shuddered, and Regulus shifted on his feet, gesturing to her. No matter what he had done in the past, her cousin felt safer than this slinking figure before them. Tonks moved to Regulus's side, now grasping her wand openly.

"You knew I was alive, you knew what I _was_," the dark figure hissed, halting his approach while he was still in shadow.

"Yes," Regulus said again. "And I'm _sorry_. I'm so sorry, Kirill."

_Kirill_. Tonks finally had a name to attach to the man whose voice now trembled with rage.

"You could have saved them. They died because of _me_."

"No, they died because of me," Regulus said, suddenly stepping forward with his hand outstretched. Kirill skittered further back into the shadows, and Regulus halted. Lowering his hand, he said quietly, "Their blood is on my hands, not yours."

Tonks could no longer see Kirill. He seemed to have melted into the darkness, but she could just barely hear his harsh breathing. She couldn't pretend to understand what the two men were talking about, but they were both clearly upset.

"What would you have had me do?" Regulus asked, his voice plaintive. "For a long time, I thought you were dead. And when I found out, when I learned the truth… you were already so happy here, I couldn't just… _end_ it."

"You bloody well should have!" a voice cried out from the shadows. In his anger, Kirill's tone rose and his voice cracked, and suddenly Tonks felt very, very cold.

_No…._

Unaware that his cousin was practically hyperventilating beside him, Regulus continued to speak.

"How could I have known that it would get so bad? All I knew was that you were happy, and I was too much of a coward to take that away from you. I _loved_ you too much, Kirill, you're like my _brother_."

"_I HAD a brother!_"

With anguished words torn from his throat, Kirill surged forward from the shadows and grabbed Regulus by the shirt collar, lifting him up and slamming him against the nearest tree. Moonlight washed across his face, and Tonks's fears were confirmed.

"_Remus!_"

The man paid her no heed. His eyes blazed iridescent amber, and his lips curled in a feral snarl. He didn't even seem to know she was there. But when she tried to rush towards him, she found her feet glued to the ground by powerful magic. He was holding her in place.

"I _had_ a brother," Remus repeated, quietly this time. He shook an unresisting Regulus, slamming his back against the tree once again. "His name was Romulus. And if you had done what you _had_ to do, he would still be alive."

"You don't know that," Regulus said fiercely. "You don't know that things would be better. They might have been _worse_. Try to remember all the_ good_ you've done, all the people you've helped. If you were dead, would they actually be safer?"

Remus glared daggers at the older man, lips now stretched tight in a grim line. After a long moment, he dropped Regulus unceremoniously and took a step back.

"I know _one_ person who would certainly be safer," he growled. Tonks's stomach lurched as Remus turned to her. His cold yellow eyes looked her over clinically, without a hint of the passion and light that she had grown so accustomed to seeing in him. She wrapped her arms around herself, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Remus turned to Regulus again.

"Why did you bring_ her_?" he asked gruffly, jerking his head in her direction. "How did you even know about her?"

"_Excuse_ me," Tonks protested, "but I'm standing _right here_."

She had had enough of this. She had stood in shock and confusion for fifteen minutes, listening to a conversation she didn't understand, and now the man she had spent months searching for couldn't even be bothered to speak to her.

To her fury, both men ignored her outburst. Regulus straightened his rumpled shirt, looking vaguely annoyed.

"I brought her because she _loves_ you, you cretin," he said. "She's been staking out the George and Dragon in Manchester, looking for you."

"Well then, she's an idiot."

"_Fuck you,_ _Remus Lupin!_"

Clearly only violent swearing was going to get through to them. Finally, both men turned to her, eyebrows raised. She might have imagined it, but Regulus actually looked a bit proud of his baby cousin. Remus, however, looked angry.

"That's not my name."

"Well, that's the name of the _rational, kind_ person who used to inhabit your body," she countered fiercely. "Can I speak to _him_, please?"

For a long moment, the man's amber eyes bore into her ruthlessly. She met his gaze in defiance, searching for a hint of the Remus she knew. But then he blinked and turned away, murmuring, "Take her and go, Regulus. She doesn't need to see this."

"Excuse my French, but _fuck that_ – "

"We're not leaving without you, Kirill."

But Remus was already melting back into the shadows of the trees. Tonks felt the magic holding her in place suddenly relent as Regulus ran after the younger man, reaching out to grab his arm. He must have known it was a futile endeavour, for he didn't put up a fight when Remus turned, grasped his wrist and bent his arm backwards, almost snapping it.

"What do you want from me?" the werewolf snarled, pushing his captive to the ground and stepping away. "You obviously know why I'm here, you know what I have to do."

"You _don't_ have to do this, there must be another way – "

"Is that what you've been telling yourself all this time? While people have been fighting and dying by the thousands?"

Regulus was now kneeling on the dusty ground in front of Remus. Tonks stepped forward hesitantly, helpless and utterly confused.

"Come back with us, Kirill," her cousin pleaded. "Don't do this, it will just make things worse – "

But Remus's face was set in determination. He glanced up at Tonks one last time, then looked back at Regulus on the ground before him.

"Get out of here. Get out while you still can."

He turned away, and Tonks watched as Regulus bent forward, despair written into the slumped lines of his shoulders.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" she yelled at Remus's retreating back. "Where are you going? There's nothing here!"

The man continued to ignore her, and she strode after him angrily, sweeping past Regulus who was just rising to his feet. Placing herself directly in Remus's path, she put her hands on her hips and glared daggers at him.

"Do you have any idea what you've put us through?" she hissed at him. "You left Hogwarts in a bloody shambles – "

"_Get. Out. Of. Here._"

The words left his mouth in an icy whisper, and he brought his face within inches of hers. His dead eyes seemed to burrow into her very soul, and suddenly Tonks could deny it no longer. The man she loved was gone. In his place was… _Kirill_. And she couldn't help but remember what Remus had said to her in his classroom, just a few hours before he disappeared.

_I've got a horrible feeling that I wasn't a good person at all…_

Kirill had already sidestepped her, and was rapidly disappearing into the darkness. Suddenly coming to her senses, Tonks turned around and played her final card.

"I promised that if you remembered, you wouldn't be alone," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "You didn't give me a chance to keep that promise, but I'm keeping it now. I don't know what you're doing here, I may not even know _you _anymore… but I'm _not leaving_."

Any response Kirill might have had to this ultimatum was drowned out by a cacophany of earsplitting _cracks_. They were no longer alone in this burned wasteland. Voices rang out in the cold stillness of the night, and Kirill suddenly darted forward, grasping Tonks's upper arm tightly.

"You're not safe here – "

"Neither are you!"

"Regulus, _take her –"_

Her cousin's hand landed on her shoulder, and Kirill's grip disappeared as she felt the familiar jerk of Apparition.

"_NO!_"

The dark Bulgarian night twisted away from her… and then her whole body shuddered and twisted back until she landed on her knees, retching onto the dusty ground of Kamena once again. Something had blocked them from Apparating. Regulus was sprawled beside her, shaken and visibly disoriented.

The string of angry syllables coming from Kirill's mouth must have been curses, but Tonks didn't understand them. He grabbed her arm and hauled her upright, practically dragging her through the forest. Behind them, Regulus stumbled to his feet and followed. Tonks couldn't see where they were going, but Kirill obviously could, for he steered them swiftly to a shallow ditch on the edge of the clearing, fifty yards away from where Tonks and Regulus had arrived. Kirill pushed them down into it, and began rummaging through a rucksack he must have stored there, still muttering to himself in what must have been Russian.

The voices were getting louder now, and Tonks peered over the top of the ditch into the field beyond. Half a dozen tall figures stood in the moonlight, plumes of cigarette smoke and puffs of warm breath rising from their mouths. Suddenly, a single voice cut through the still night.

"Show yourself, boy! We know you're here!"

Kirill stiffened, his frantic search through the bag coming to an abrupt halt. Tonks looked over at him in alarm. Who were these people?

"_Accio Portkey_," Kirill whispered. A flicker of relief played across his features as he pulled his hand from the rucksack. In his palm lay a smooth stone, marked on one side with a hasty scratch. Tonks had seen hundreds of them this summer. It was one of the portkeys that brought the refugees to the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore and Flitwick had managed to make them work within most anti-Apparition wards.

Kirill pressed it into her palm, using both his hands to curl her fingers around it tightly. His skin was warm and dry against hers, and in a sudden fit of emotion and near hysteria, Tonks pressed her lips to his knuckles. The man sucked in a single, rough gasp.

"_Please_…"

Kirill's voice was choked, and she looked up, hardly daring to hope.

"Dora, you have to go," he whispered, his eyes pleading with her.

So Remus wasn't gone after all. He just needed some reminding. That, she could do.

Grasping his hands more firmly, she pulled Kirill towards her and kissed him fiercely. For a moment he didn't respond, clearly stunned. But then he freed one hand and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her forward and drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Long whiskers scraped her skin, his teeth pulled aggressively at her bottom lip, and for a few glorious seconds Tonks completely forgot where they were and how much danger they were in.

A discretely cleared throat brought them back to the present. Poor Regulus had been an uncomfortably close witness to their melding of mouths. But Tonks was too flustered to pay him any mind, and Kirill was simply staring at her, his expression unreadable.

"Oy, _Kirill_!"

The jeering shout startled them all. The man in the clearing was losing patience.

"Get out here, you can't hide from us forever!"

The kiss had clearly rattled the young werewolf, for he had lost his veneer of angry composure. His eyes took on a hunted quality, and he hunched against the side of the ditch, pulling Tonks down with him. She could feel his breath against her cheek, and she dared to whisper, "Who is that?"

"_Barrett_," he growled. "Come to gloat at the scene of his greatest triumph."

"How does he know your name? What does he want?"

Kirill squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as though trying to dislodge a memory from the inside of his skull.

"Long story," he muttered. He suddenly plunged his hand into his trouser pocket, a look of fierce concentration on his face. He nodded to himself, content that whatever he had been looking for was still there. Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her around towards Regulus. The trio huddled together at the bottom of the ditch, and Kirill looked at his two companions intently.

"I know you're trying to help," he whispered, "but the only thing you can do for me is take that portkey and _go_."

"It should be me," Regulus said, his voice wavering. He was gripping the front of Kirill's shirt, and his eyes were fixed desperately on the younger man's face. "It should have been me all along. I won't let you do this, not when you have so much to live for!"

Tonks didn't have time to figure out what the hell her cousin was talking about. She was concentrating on the small stone in her clenched fist. The portkey required a specific spell for activation, and there was no way she'd be able to get her wand out and perform it without giving Kirill plenty of time to pull away from her and Regulus. Her experience with wandless magic was meager at best, but maybe… just maybe…

Kirill was whispering frantically, but she had tuned him out. She was lost in concentration, repeating the activation spell over and over again in her mind. The stone grew hot in her hand, she was almost there…

And then a silken smooth voice rang out in very close proximity to their hiding place.

"_Here_ you are. And you brought friends!"

A second voice drawled, "Well well, if it isn't the little Auror activist."

Tom Barrett and Marcus Belfry had found them. And Tonks threw caution to the wind.

"Regulus, the portkey!" she cried, holding out the stone to him as she grasped Kirill's shirt collar with her other hand. Catching on immediately, her cousin grabbed both her hand and the portkey within it.

"_Lacusa!_" he cried, as an earsplitting bang echoed through the air. Tonks felt something hard and hot strike her right shoulder, but she kept her grip on both Kirill and Regulus as the familiar jerk at her navel pulled them away from Bulgaria, spinning them through dizzying space.

But something was wrong. Even as the portkey pulled and stretched her body, Tonks could feel Kirill twisting violently against her grasp. And then her arm started to go numb...

_Remind me to never use a long-distance portkey again…_ she mused, her mind oddly disjointed. Kirill was on the verge of slipping from her fingers when they finally landed in a painful heap in the Forbidden Forest.

Then she understood why Kirill had been struggling in transit. Two of his worst enemies had come along for the ride. Belfry had managed to wrap one beefy hand around the young man's neck, and had taken ahold of Barrett's shirt with the other.

Tonks looked on helplessly as Belfry tore Kirill from her grasp and threw him bodily across the small clearing. Regulus let out a feral cry and leapt at the bigger man, flinging wandless curses that Belfry only just managed to deflect. Barrett – still looking disoriented by their sudden relocation – shifted his gaze from the two struggling men before him to the enraged werewolf rising to his feet several yards away, and finally looked down at the young woman still sprawled on the damp ground. Tonks shuddered as his pale blue eyes met hers. Thin lips twitched upwards in a cruel smile.

"_It's over, Barrett!_"

Sluggishly, Tonks turned her head to look at Kirill. He stood on the edge of the small clearing, his amber eyes blazing. He brandished a strange metal sphere in his right hand, and as they watched, he reached up and pulled a small ring off the top of it. The sphere clicked ominously, and he flung the ring into the trees.

Tonks had a very bad feeling about this. Regulus and Belfry had stopped fighting. They both stood frozen, gaping at the young man.

"You know what this is," Kirill said softly, nodding down to the object in his hand. "You've killed hundreds of people with these. You know what will happen if I lift my thumb."

The world was getting very fuzzy. Tonks shook her head, trying to clear it. Barrett let out a laconic laugh.

"Seriously? This was your grand plan? That grenade won't take us out at this distance, do your _research_."

Stars spun in Tonks's vision, and the clearing seemed to be getting even darker. She struggled to sit up, and suddenly realized that the right side of her body was soaking wet.

_What the…_

"It doesn't need to kill you," Kirill said, his voice quiet and intense. "It just needs to destroy everything you've been working for these past ten years. Let them go," he nodded to Regulus and Tonks, "and I'll think about keeping my thumb down for a few more minutes."

Tonks raised a shaking hand to her right shoulder. It came away dripping with blood. She let out an involuntary cry of pain. Someone had _shot_ her.

Kirill's eyes flickered to her for a moment, distracted by the sound of her fear. It was the only chance Barrett needed. Suddenly, Tonks found herself on her feet, held upright by a strong hand at her throat and Barrett's chest at her back. Something hard and cold pressed ruthlessly against her temple, and she knew that he was holding a gun to her head. Somewhere in the distance, Regulus was yelling angrily.

"If you die," Barrett shouted over her cousin's protests, "_she_ dies."

Pain was filling Tonks's world. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire. She lifted panicked eyes to Kirill, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were blank and cold, his gaze fixed eerily on Barrett.

"_Let her go_."

The growl that left his throat didn't even sound human. Barrett's hand tightened around Tonk's throat and she choked.

"Throw the grenade away, boy," her captor replied, and the barrel of the gun pressed even harder into her flesh. The world was going dark…

And then pounding hooves broke into the clearing, and wild cries echoed through the trees. An arrow struck Barrett's hand, knocking the gun away from Tonks's temple. It hit the ground and went off, sending shockwaves through the young woman's whole body as she sank to her knees, her captor suddenly gone.

"Kirill, _no!_"

Regulus's tortured cry sounded like it was underwater. The forest floor was rising up to meet her. Somewhere in the distance, an explosion rocked the world, but Tonks was already gone. The blackness swallowed her whole.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait again, my only excuse is 'grad school'. Hope y'all like it! Thanks so much for all the reviews :)**


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